


The Night Unfurls: Re-imagined

by SixtyThreeNineteen



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Dark Souls I, 黒獣～気高き聖女は白濁に染まる～ | Kuroinu: Kedakaki Seijo wa Hakudaku ni Somaru (Anime)
Genre: Added Dark Souls, Bloodtinge build for the Hunter, Cruel Hunter with issues, Cruelty, F/M, Gen, Gratuitous Violence, Great One Hunter, Murder, Nice Chosen Undead...sort of, Other, Strength-faith-build for the Chosen Undead, Why Did I Write This?, because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-01 06:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixtyThreeNineteen/pseuds/SixtyThreeNineteen
Summary: A Hunter with regrets.An Undead who seeks purpose.Both find themselves in the war torn land of Eostia, where a madman leads an army of orcs and mercenaries to enslave its people. What madness awaits them in this new reality?A re-imagining of a story I wrote on FF.net.





	1. Bloodshed

 

**_"The Nightmare swirls and churns unending!"_ **

**_-Attrib. to Micolash, Host of the Nightmare._ **

 

* * *

 

 

The land of Eostia was in turmoil. In a sickening display of treachery Vault, the leader of the Kuroinu mercenaries, renounced his contract and declared war upon the whole of Eostia. He declared the beginnings of his so-called Cuntry, the Kuroinu Sex Empire and took over the Black Fortress of Olga Discordia who was the High Queen of the Dark Elves. As his monstrous hordes spread throughout the lands, the Seven Shield Alliance led by Celestine Lucross the Goddess reborn rose up to stand against him. Battle lines were drawn and alliances were made for Olga Discordia and her retainer, Chloe, made good on her escape from her Black Fortress in her kingdom of Garan and made her way to the Fortress City of Ken where her greatest rival, Celestine, awaited. 

It was here that an uneasy alliance was made between the Dark Elves and the Seven Shields for they had a common enemy with the Kuroinu. The newly made alliance quickly began mustering its troops and gathering materiel for the Kuroinu were coming for them soon, and nothing would be able to stop those monstrous hordes should they break through the Seven Fortresses that defended Eostia and her people. If they fell, then there would be nothing and no one to stop the hordes of Vault from plunging the land of Eostia into dark times of debauchery and horror. 

It was during one month after the war had begun that something had changed. This change began with the arrival of a foreigner to the land of Eostia. A strange man garbed in a grey coat and a tattered tricorne hat. This strange man would find himself in the middle of the terrible conflict between those who wished to enslave the women of Eostia and take them to their hearts' content and those who fought to free the people of Eostia from a terrible fate. 

If only they knew how much untold suffering and terror this stranger would bring upon the Kuroinu and the countless bodies he would leave in his wake for the sake of peace. 

* * *

 

"Orcs! Orcs! The Kuroinu have come!" 

His eyes opened and he blankly regarded the young man that had just slammed the inn's doors open to yell out the warning. The village of Rosie was not very far from Feoh and to have such an incursion so close to the nobility was quite frightening. The Kuroinu were everywhere it seemed. Then again, he had heard that it was the largest mercenary group in the country. They were considered heroes to the people of Eostia, and they would have ended the war against the chaotic land of Garan and the High Queen of the Dark Elves, Olga Discordia. 

He wondered what those admirers thought of their 'heroes' now, and how far they had fallen from their original noble purpose, to see that Vault had planned to enslave all of the women of Eostia...

No matter. 

To him, a beast was a beast. And a Hunter must hunt beasts no matter what form they took. The stranger stood up, knowing full well that the villagers' stares were drawn to his strange garb and his tattered tricorne hat. His clothing was nondescript save for the engraved bracers that covered his forearms. His features, sharp and young but scarred, were hidden beneath a cloth mask. His hat was angled downward making it difficult to ascertain what he looked like. Holstered at his hip was a well worn but still reliable flintlock pistol. A bandoleer of throwing knives hung across his chest, hidden by the greatcoat he wore. 

The Hunter did not care in the slightest if they saw his face or not. He had things to kill. 

And so, without further ado, the Hunter stepped out of the inn and began his Hunt anew...

/

_Later..._

Orcs were tough, green skinned bastards. But they bled. And when things bleed that meant that they can die. 

The Hunter tore his blade out of the orc he had just killed. The Saw Cleaver was a brutal weapon, made purely for cutting down a beast. It worked just as well hear as it did in Yharnam during the Night of the Hunt. The blade glinted dully, stained with the dark red blood of the greenskin it had just been hacked into. The stranger smiled thinly beneath his cloth mask as he watched the greenskin gurgle and die, falling to its knees before expiring. 

Disgusting creatures. They didn't even die properly. Their piggish grunts reminded him far too much of the unclean beasts that he had hunted during the Night of the Hunt. They deserved neither mercy or clemency. 

Disgusting creatures. 

He looked behind him. The village militia had barely put up a good fight but there was no need for concern. The knights of Iris, led by Alicia Arcturus herself had come to the rescue. That wasn't his problem. What did concern him was the remnant of the Orc war band that had been the ones who attacked the village of Rosie, the ones who had escaped included an Orc war leader among their number. Worthy prey indeed, he wondered just how much gold he'd be able to get if he turned in the proof of the kill.

The Good Hunter swung his Saw Cleaver to the side, transforming it from the long bladed cleaver into a compact saw. He continued on, following the tracks of the orcs that had fled from reprisal. 

If this took the whole night, then he was not going to be very happy. Still, work was work. And as Eileen the Crow used to say, A Hunter must Hunt. This was his purpose and so long as the Kuroinu were still at large, he'd take any bounty he could get. It wasn't like anyone was mourning their deaths anyway, they were an army of rapists. 

Disgusting creatures. He had slain more than his fair share of mercenaries, those who claimed to have joined the Kuroinu were just as evil as the real deal. 

He continued on, deep into the forest next to the village of Rosie. The orcs would camp around here and try again if they were dumb enough to do so. The Good Hunter again felt a smile emerge onto his face underneath the cloth bandanna he wore. Today was going to be a good day for hunting. The Hunter's stride quickened, already he could smell the blood that he was going to spill. It was dirty, unclean inhuman blood but still blood. 

As though sensing a feast, an unkindness of ravens flew above the tree line following the path of the Good Hunter. 

/

He took them in the sight of the setting sun. The orcs had camped in a clearing not too far from the path in the forest. It did not matter that there were fifteen of them. It did not matter that their war leader, Uzrog, had raped and pillaged many human villages in his time as an orc warrior. Their guttural tongue did not save them. Their belief in their strength did not save them. The prayers they uttered to whatever gods and goddesses they worshipped in their tongue did not save them. 

For when a Hunter finds his quarry, none escape him. The lucky ones died quickly and of those who were not as lucky, the less said the better. 

Bursting from the brush like a bullet, the Good Hunter struck down his first enemy with a single swing. The Saw opened a gash in the green-skin's throat causing the creature to die bleeding to death as he tried to cover the wound with his hands, trying desperately to keep his life fluids in his body. The second orc let out a guttural cry that was silenced by the Hunter punching his weapon into its face. The last thing the orc heard before passing on to whatever afterlife that awaited it was the sound of metal crunching through bone. The third charged lowering its spear. A single shot from the Hunter's flintlock put it down, the bullet crashing through its skull. The Hunter shoved aside the corpse and continued moving, cutting down greenskin after greenskin in a whirling dervish of bloodshed and death. 

The Good Hunter took out the orcs without mercy, his aggression focused and without hesitation he cut through the greenskin with an almost manic glee. When he finally met the war leader, Uzrog he looked up into its face. Its beady black eyes regarded him with anger and arrogance. He wondered what the thing thought of him...maybe he thought that he'd be an easy mark. Perhaps, it was afraid of him. He  _did_ tear straight through most of its subordinates after all. 

The war leader roared and raised its club, challenging the Hunter who crouched low and tightened the grip on his weapon...

There was no need to respond. All he saw was another corpse and another skull to take. He was going to tear this greenskin apart. 

And that was what he did. 

/

The stars were out. The Good Hunter looked back at the trail of bodies he had left behind then lifted up his trophy. It was the head of the Orc war leader he had recently slain. It was a tough bastard but in the end the orc was no match. It had been far too slow and bleeding the thing was highly effective. The Good Hunter was covered in greenskin blood, a small problem he would solve when he got back to the village of Rosie. 

He smiled to himself. 

Today had been a good day. 

 

 

 


	2. Malice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so he stands, bloodied but unbowed. Battered but unbroken. His blade hungers for the blood of evildoers. 
> 
> May we never be cursed with his presence ever again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the name of the Hunter from Kyril to Cyril to make it a bit different from the version on FF.net.

 

* * *

_The village of Rosie, Feoh_

"So this...foreigner followed the Orc band and slaughtered them all?" 

Alicia Arcturus was skeptical that one man was capable of bringing down an orc war chief by himself. This was a small band, nothing more but on her honor as a knight she was not going to allow these foul creatures any free reign in Feoh or Ur. The Knight of Iris shook her blonde hair as she considered what the young villager was saying. This foreigner, a young man with a tattered hat, had just arrived in Rosie without any preamble or any fanfare. In fact, nobody in the village had noticed that he was there at all until he spoke to them. 

Strange. Still, he had been here for a few months so she assumed that he was trying to find a new place to start over. Or he was a fugitive. Either way, she could not trust anyone these days. Especially with the Black Dogs having taken over the Fortress of Garan, the former home of the Dark Queen Olga Discordia herself. Perhaps the man had heard of the exploits of the Kuroinu and had planned on joining them, not knowing that they were now wanted fugitives who wished to spread their evil across the land. If this arrogant foreigner thought that she was softhearted then he had another thing coming. Alicia looked down at the villager who shuffled uncomfortably as Alicia's violet gaze pierced his own. 

"My thanks, citizen. Do you know where this so-called Hunter is now?" Alicia asked. 

"Eh? Oh, uh he usually stays up at the inn." The villager told her. He scratched his unruly black hair. "He keeps to himself, but he's polite lady knight." 

Alicia nodded to her entourage of knights and steered their horses towards the inn. 

It was time that she traded words with this stranger. A man who kills orcs is someone useful. Perhaps he'd pledge his services to Lady Celestine and the Seven Shields? Good fighters were rare to come by. 

/

There was always a price for one's actions.

The Good Hunter washed his hands in the water basin before pushing it away from him. The orc war leader he had beheaded cost quite a pretty penny, hence why he was in a more private parlor. No one wanted to bother him, especially since he had come back through the village gates covered in blood. He had been carrying the orc's head with him.  The greenskin only existed to kill, breed, and rape. They didn't seem to have any fundamental goodness within them, it was like the gods decided to create a race that existed solely to be hated. So when he emerged from that forest, covered in blood and carrying the war leader's head the people of Rosie celebrated his return. 

They  _celebrated_ him, as if they had not shunned and treated him with scorn for being a foreigner. As if he was some kind of  _hero ,_ as if he was the one who was going to end the Kuroinu and win the war for them. It made him wonder what their reactions would be when they found out just how much blood he had shed, if they could have seen the countless bodies he left in his wake during the Night of the Hunt. Would they still see him as a hero then? Would they still drink to his name, and laugh at their newfound fortune? Would the women try to flirt with him further? Would they still offer to share their beds for the night? 

He was getting far too bitter about this and thus he tried to relax. No, he couldn't fault these people for something so fundamentally human. For the weak desiring the protection of the strong.The Hunter lowered his cloth mask, revealing a blank faced young man. He was average looking, one would consider him handsome even were it not for his dark eyes that seemed to look through someone rather than at them. He let a smile plaster itself on his face as he tucked into his breakfast. As he did so, he didn't notice the shadow growing over him. 

"You there, in the hat." A strong, but young female voice, sounded. Ringing with authority, the voice belonged to the blonde in the skimpy blue dress and armor. A fancy sword hung at her side and she certainly knew how to use it. Too bad for her, he didn't care whether she was royalty, a mercenary or a famous knight. She was probably royalty as two more knights followed her around. One was scowling at him, the one with reddish hair. The other had brown hair and was looking around cautiously. 

The Hunter swallowed his food, wiped his mouth and turned his head to look at his new acquaintances. Already he saw several ways to kill them in a span of a few seconds. He bit that thought down with the same callous efficiency he used back in Yharnam oh so long ago. During the Night of the Hunt where madmen roamed the streets. 

"Yes?" He asked, whisper quiet. 

/

Alicia nearly stepped back as the stranger's blank gaze pierced hers. His dark eyes were blank, lifeless and cold; a mixture of the forlorn lifeless gaze of a madman and the callous visage of a bloodthirsty murderer. There was something behind those eyes, something that had broken but had reformed into a terrible, malicious thing that only sought the ending of lives. The stranger was young looking, probably a few years older than her. His sharp, if bland looks told her that he was barely into his twenties. His terrifying eyes told her he had lived through more than she could ever possibly know. 

"Do you need something?" 

The stranger's quiet voice snapped Alicia out of her stupor. She cleared her throat as her stern visage came back. "I hear that you killed an Orc War leader." She told him.

Much to her consternation, the stranger merely shrugged as he picked at his food. "I did." He said, his terrible eyes focused on nothing in front of him. The stranger put down his fork and took a swig of ale. "Is it a crime to put down greenskins?" He asked her.

Alicia bristled at his careless tone. 

"Watch yourself stranger." The red haired knight, Kendra, spoke harshly. "You speak to Alicia Arcturus, Daughter of Eos and the Knight of Iris." 

The stranger looked into his tankard of ale without a care in the world, like he neither cared about Alicia's titles or her royal lineage. He then turned his terrifying eyes to Kendra and observed her for a few seconds. Then, he turned his gaze onto Alicia. "Apologies then, your Ladyship." He said. 

Kendra scowled at his uncaring tone. The stranger stood up and Alicia saw that he was quite a bit taller than her. The man reached up, scratching at black hair flecked with grey. His terrible eyes locked onto the wall. "If you wish for proof that I did kill this Orc then I am more than willing to show you the head I took from his body." 

He said it so casually, like a man who had just taken a stroll instead of slaying an orc war leader single-handedly. Alicia felt a chill go up her spine. "Very well, if this story is true then perhaps you may be paid for the services you have provided for the people of Feoh." Alicia spoke confidently, despite the unease she felt being in the presence of this foreigner. "What is your name, stranger?" 

The stranger, who was just about to depart for his room, stopped in the doorway. He smiled thinly. 

"My name is Cyril, your ladyship." The stranger said idly. "Cyril Sutherland, the Hunter is who I am." 

/

"That man is dangerous, milady." Kendra told Alicia as they waited. The innkeeper had graciously allowed them the finest room to sleep in. Currently Alicia and her two knights were waiting for Cyril to provide the proof of his kill. "What if he intends to come here to harm you?" 

"Then we kill him." Alicia said, looking at Kendra. "I'm sure we are all more than a match for some foreigner who hardly seems there." 

"Aye, but Lady Alicia you should still be quite cautious you know?" The brown haired knight, Vera, gave a lazy smile. "Madmen aren't exactly the easiest to predict. Did you see the way he was looking at us, Kendra? I think he's a few forks short of a cutlery set if you catch my drift."

"And that is precisely why we should bring him back to Feoh in chains!" Kendra exclaimed. "You need to take this more seriously Vera! Surely this foreigner is working for the Kuroinu!" 

Alicia was about to answer when a polite knock sounded on the door. Kendra jumped. Vera didn't but she did give the red haired knight a raised brow and a smirk. Alicia shook her head and spoke in a loud, clear tone. 

"You may enter!" 

The door opened and Cyril Sutherland stepped into the room holding a bloody burlap sack. "Apologies for the delay." He said bowing his head. "Someone fainted in the hallway and it took sometime to go help that poor girl recover." 

The Hunter quietly set the burlap sack on the table in front of Alicia who wrinkled her nose. "Other than that, here is proof of the kill your ladyship." 

Alicia grimaced as the Orc's head was revealed. This was indeed the orc war leader that had been killed. Its black tongue lolled out, the last expression the orc had made at the end of its life was agony...and fear. She looked up at the Hunter's face, seeing that it was concealed once more beneath a cloth bandanna. "You did kill him..."

"I did. It took most of the night, but I killed him and his friends too." Cyril answered. 

Alicia looked up at him then exhaled before asking. 

"Are you interested in working for the Seven Shields?" 

 


	3. Feoh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do we have no choice, but to burn it all to cinders?

_En route to the Fortress City of Feoh, Eostia..._

Cyril Sutherland did agree to being hired as a fighter for the Seven Shields Alliance. He was not a soldier however but a Hunter, as he kept insisting. He preferred to take on work that would be more suited to an assassin. Alicia Arcturus had no need for an assassin, but perhaps that could change even if it did rankle her, an honorable knight had no need to associate with rabble like mercenaries and assassins. He  _did_ kill an orc war chief by himself single-handedly after all. What irked her was how insular the man was, when asked a question about his past he kept quiet which was the usual case. Or he said one or two words that either raised more questions or made all three women even more confused, or angry in Kendra's case. His favorite word seemed to be "no" and the most irritating reply was "so I have been told". This angered her knight Kendra quite a bit. She was fuming as she tossed a glare in the Hunter's direction, something that he ignored in favor for keeping an eye out for enemies. His head was consistently on a swivel and he never relaxed. 

Throughout the ride back to the fortress city of Feoh, Cyril had said not a word to anyone despite the attempts from Vera into riling him up or just trying to start some friendly conversation. He just ignored the knight who shrugged and took it in stride although Alicia could sense the disappointment in Vera. The knight was certainly interested in him but Alicia would dissuade her if something happened. Cyril Sutherland may be working for them but he was not to be trusted. The man was insular, contemptuous and utterly irreverent of the notion of chivalry or respecting the noble class. That and there was also the sinister aura he seemed to exude every hour of the day, a miasma that warned off all sentient life. 

Alicia looked around, noting the many ravens that were flying around them. It was eerie. Some croaked but many kept an eye on all three of them. The Princess Knight looked back at the Hunter. A raven was perched on his shoulder briefly before it flew off, croaking. Cyril Sutherland did not speak, merely staring off into space before his terrible eyes locked onto hers briefly. It was a glance that promised a painful death if she kept staring. 

The Princess Knight turned around, resolving to keep her eyes on the road from this point onward. 

/

He started the fire, seeing as he was a mere commoner. Cyril was the one on second watch but he did not sleep. Clipping his Saw Cleaver to his back, Cyril went for his second weapon. The Chikage was a Vileblood weapon. It was a blend of an eastern weapon and western sensibilities. Favored by the Cainhurst Knights, it was a deadly weapon in the hands of a skilled user. It was even deadlier when a blood rite was performed. He did not use it as much as he should but oh well. Perhaps it would glut itself on greenskin or Kuroinu blood when the time comes. 

He was certainly looking forward to it. 

"That's a nice sword." 

Vera sat down next to him. Cyril did not notice, merely keeping his sword in its sheath with difficulty. There was a temptation to ram the blade down this woman's throat but he crushed it. That was sloppy of him, a Hunter must always be aware of the blood lust. It was always there in the back of your head, waiting for a chance to consume you. That way lay madness, and a Hunter consumed by the thirst for blood was no better than a beast. This was why he turned his attentions toward the bandits, the orcs and the Kuroinu. Anyone who committed a reprehensible crime was fair game for the Good Hunter, and this was the better way of controlling the constant blood lust that plagued his every waking moment. If he struck out against evil itself, if he isolated himself from the good who deserved none of his wrath, then so be it. Let the innocent fear and loathe him, at least they were alive. Perhaps if Lady Alicia gave him leave to hunt down the Kuroinu, then he had no reason to worry anymore. If he died far and alone fighting to the last then that would be his penance for what he had been forced to do in the dead city of Yharnam. 

It would be an escape from the nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his eyes. 

"What of it?" Cyril asked softly. 

"Just complimenting a nice looking sword, mister Cyril." Vera tried to make more conversation. The Good Hunter was having none of it. Why she was interested in talking to him, he did not know. They met barely a few days ago and she seemed to think that he was looking for a friend. 

The Good Hunter said nothing, causing Vera to frown, the knight stayed silent for the rest of the night. Grateful that she had given up on her ultimately foolish actions, Cyril stood up and walked away from the campfire after deciding to take a look around. He was thankful for the silence. Now he could focus on his thoughts. Now he could do his best to keep the memories away. Even if they did slip in no matter what. 

Cyril continued on his patrol route for the rest of the night, undisturbed. No orcs attacked their camp. But the ravens were there, always watching. 

He leaned his hand on the hilt of his Chikage as he got back to camp, sitting down before the fire to keep warm. 

The next day they finally arrived at their destination. The city of Feoh had very close ties to its neighbor, Ur. This was the home of many of Eostia's nobility, and it certainly did live up to its reputation. Although Ken, the home of Celestine Lucross herself, far surpassed it in splendor according to the gossip in the many taverns and inns the Good Hunter had visited during his stay in Eostia's many towns and villages. Cyril cared little for the beauty of the city, nor its inhabitants. He was more inclined to watching out for his potential employer. Again his head was on a swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for malice. Alicia led the party of knights, plus one Hunter, towards her personal estate. Alicia looked back at the young foreigner she had deigned to bring along. 

He kept his terrible eyes forward although the grips on the reigns of his borrowed horse was tight. 

She turned her attention back towards the estate. A smile placed itself on her face as she caught sight of her cousin waiting there, her hands wringing her dress's skirt. Prim was a gentle soul, and she always worried whenever Alicia went off to the field to fight against either the Kuroinu or the demons and monsters they would unleash against the Seven Shield Alliance. 

/

Prim Fiorire waited for her cousin to dismount before approaching. 

The pink haired Princess Knight was shy and demure, but now as she saw the fourth person in her cousin's company she stopped. She would have screamed had she not been able to control herself. The man was tall, garbed in a long dark coat. A tattered tricorne hat and cloth bandanna hid his features from the world. But his eyes...his horrible, horrible eyes. That was what terrified her. Why was Alicia in the company of this stranger? Who was he? 

Prim was shaken out of her reverie by Alicia. 

"Hello, Alicia." She quickly bowed. "H-How was your trip?" 

"Well worth the effort." Alicia replied. "We saved a village and we gained a new...recruit to our cause." 

"Ah...h-him?" Prim looked at the Hunter nervously as he dismounted and continued adjusting the saddle on the horse before letting go. He stood there still as a statue. Beside him, Kendra watched the Hunter with a critical eye while Vera shrugged and waited at attention for Alicia to dismiss them. 

"Cyril Sutherland is a Hunter." Alicia told Prim. "I do not trust him but he is skilled enough to take on an orc war band by himself." She scowled. 

"He is a mercenary but if Maia has shown us loyalty then I suppose that I can trust that he can at least do what he is paid to do." Alicia continued. "We just have to draft up a contract and see what else he is capable of." 

"He seems...quiet." Prim said. 

"A right loon is more like." Alicia muttered. "But if his blade work is as good as he claims then perhaps I can overlook that." 

Prim giggled. Alicia never complained in front of anyone except her. She sighed. "Well, I suppose I can afford to be nice if you say he is willing to work with us." Before Alicia could discourage her, Prim approached the Hunter. 

"Um...pardon me?" 

Cyril looked down at the young woman, although girl was more appropriate. She had pink hair and the same shade of eye color Alicia had if slightly more purple. She was soft, far too soft. So much so that it was maddening. That and she wore pink. She was far, far too bright. And soft. It...irritated him. He did not know why but she irritated him. It was irrational and stupid. Biting down his choler, Cyril bowed politely. 

 "Yes, milady?" He asked. 

Alicia grumbled. Why was he being polite to Prim and not her? 

"Um, what's your name? I-I am Prim Fiorire. Alicia is my cousin." Prim said curtsying. 

Much to Alicia's consternation, Cyril sighed. "I am Cyril Sutherland, milady. Here under Lady Alicia's employ..."  _Well technically not yet, she hasn't signed a contract._

_Or offered me money for killing orcs..._

The Hunter allowed himself a small smile. It won't be long now. 

Time to get to work. 


	4. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O Flora of the moon, of the dream...oh fleeting will of the Ancients...Let the Hunter be safe, Let him find comfort and let this dream, his captor, foretell a pleasant awakening.

* * *

 

Cyril quietly stood up from his crouched position as he looked down at the mercenary he had just slain. His green vest had the emblem of a black dog sewn onto the chest. He had been barrel chested, an arrogant fighter who boasted about raping a young girl from his hometown in Feoh. Cyril remembered the way the man's face contorted into terror as he watched his entire band of warriors get killed one by one. The Hunter was covered in blood, coat, hat and all. Cyril looked around eyes blank as he beheld the mercenaries he had left in ruins spread across their little campsite. His Chikage was soaked in blood for a brief moment before he swung his blade down to spatter the grass with red life fluid. The blade glinted dully as though disappointed with the unworthy blood that stained its blade. Nonetheless it had done good work tonight. 

The Good Hunter sheathed his Chikage with a deft motion before pulling his Saw Cleaver from his back and unfolding it. The long blade glinted dully and was just as bloody as the Chikage. The Night of the Hunt had given him an opportunity to scavenge some other useful weapons within the Nightmare, but ultimately he was more used to these two. Thus, he used both weapons to the point that they almost became an extension of his body. He was not as strong as many swordsmen but he was fast, brutal and pragmatic. The only honor in combat was your continued survival. The best defense was always a good offense, preferably one where your opponent was incapable of striking back in any situation. 

He set about collecting the heads as proof of the success of his mission. The skulls would be useful to another person he had met in the red light district of Feoh, an alchemist and magician who used the bones of the dead as an ingredient for her potions and poisons. She was willing to share some of her profits for her potions and her stock of poisons for his throwing knives in exchange for giving her the skulls of the Kuroinu. The woman had lost her children to the war in Eostia and had only the mercenaries to blame. Cyril made sure to keep a distance as while he could understand her loss, he had a mission to complete. 

He placed the last head in the bloody haversack and quickly clipped his Saw Cleaver onto his back before hoisting his bag over his shoulder, meandering his way back to the village he had arrived in a few days ago. It was not a bad place to settle down, much like the last one he visited they were not very kind to foreigners, but tended to shy off and think otherwise if said foreigner was just as heavily armed as he was. The local town brawlers learned that lesson after he took their hands. Between the Kuroinu making trouble for this town or the foreigner who had a penchant for dismembering people who annoyed him, the townsfolk would rather deal with the Kuroinu. 

It was too bad Cyril had been there to kill the Kuroinu mercenaries who were causing trouble near the village by harassing the caravans for gold, women and provisions. That and he was under Alicia Arcturus's employ and no one wanted to cross the Knight of Iris, seeing as she was the only one capable of controlling him. 

Cyril continued down the road and headed through the gates, the guards not even bothering to stop him. Not when he was covered in blood and carrying a bloody sack. He'd spend a night here before heading back to Feoh to report back to Alicia Arcturus that his mission was complete. As things stood, he had killed more than twenty men so far. As the days would go on, he would probably end up killing more than twenty the next day, and so on and so forth until someone either stopped him because there was no-one else to kill or he finally fell in battle. 

The Good Hunter laughed bitterly to himself. That would never happen. Part of him was still human, that meant that he would want to live no matter how tired he felt or how much he wanted to die. Cyril felt the familiar weight of each of his weapons and continued onward, heading back to the inn with his gristly cargo in tow.  

/

 It was raining by the time he was out of Alicia Arcturus's hair. 

Cyril pocketed his gold as he continued hauling his cargo towards Feoh's Red Light District. The sight of a man carrying a bloody sack was enough to shock anyone walking around in the slums, the sight of the Good Hunter's blade was more than enough to deter thieves. The last muggers who tried to rob him were never seen again. Cyril knew where they were though, six feet under and in pieces. Cyril walked towards the most isolated building here, one that was a few ways away from the famous Rosie brothel. The escorts and courtesans there were a curious, gossipy bunch. While they did get on his nerves from time to time, they also proved to be a source of information. Even if all of them were gossipy hens. 

The Good Hunter looked up at the sign that said "Alchemist" and stepped through the moldering door. Cyril was greeted by the smell of something burnt. The gloomy interior of the store was rather oddly refreshing, he assumed it was the charms that his associate had put up. The counter at the front of the shop was empty but that would change in a few seconds. A woman stepped out, wrapped in a deep cloak. The most noticeable aspect of the woman waiting there was the bronze circlet with the sapphire at the front. Her tired, blank brown eyes were just as empty as Cyril's, although less sinister. Sallya was a magician who had been banished from the court of Feoh for supposedly practicing dark magic. Cyril met her during his wanderings in the Fortress City of Feoh, being accosted by a rather unscrupulous bunch. 

He had sent those thugs away with severe injuries. Ever since then, Sallya had quietly allowed him to stay with her for the time being since there was no way that Alicia Arcturus was going to give him the time of day, let alone a place to lay his head  down and rest after the missions she would send him on. 

"You have the skulls?" Her voice was soft and low, almost shy which was the opposite of the intimidating, curvy physique she had hidden underneath her cloak. Cyril mused that she would be quite a prize if the Kuroinu were to attack Feoh. That, oddly enough, caused his blood to boil considerably. 

"I do, Miss Sallya." Cyril said serenely and set down the bloody haversack of heads. 

"Good." Sallya, the woman behind the counter, spoke her eyes glowing. "More skulls to add to my collection. My vengeance against those who took everything from me. You're doing well. Are- Are you hungry?" 

"May I be excused?" Cyril asked not looking to make any conversation. It was suddenly cold of him, sure, but he wanted to see her. He wanted to return to the Dream. 

Sallya frowned. "Sleeping already?" She said, looking upset. 

"Unfortunately yes, I don't do well being rained on." Cyril said calmly weathering her jealous stare. Why this woman showed an attraction to him, he didn't know. The Good Hunter waited for Sallya to emerge from the side. When Sallya opened the door Cyril followed her to a back area, a private room of sorts that Sallya allowed him to use as his personal quarters. Sallya left without a word, clearly upset with him. Once there, Cyril reached into his coat and pulled out a Bold Hunter's Mark. He held it to his eye and looked up. 

Soon enough the sensation of falling hit him...

He fell...and fell...and fell...

/

_The Hunter's Dream_

The first thing that greeted Cyril upon his arrival in the Dream was the cloudy, sunless sky. The calming smell of the white flowers alerted the Good Hunter that he was on the very same hill where he slew Gehrman, his mentor. The First Hunter. Cyril scowled underneath his mask. The old bastard was a tough teacher who enjoyed speaking vaguely. It irritated him still thinking about it before the bitterness settled in. The old man  _did_ teach him everything that he knew, that much Cyril could owe him in the least. Now, the Dream was his. A place of solitude that he could stay in whenever he wished. Already he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten. Only slightly, but it was a welcome feeling nonetheless. 

He stood up from the field, dusting off the white petals that littered his grey coat. Cyril made his way down the hill towards the metal fence where the gate swung idly open in the breeze. Pushing it aside, Cyril found himself staring up at the workshop that was now his home. He inhaled before heading up the hill to catch sight of the Plain Doll that stood before the graves. Sensing someone behind her, the Doll turned around. She towered over the Good Hunter, sculpted in the image of a powerful Hunter that Gehrman had taught long, long ago. She wore a finely tailored dress and a bonnet that covered her silvery, white hair. Kind grey eyes stared out from a fair face. A small ornament was placed delicately in her hair, a gift from the Good Hunter who had gone out of his way to find the thing for her. 

She had always been in the Dream, ever since her creation. Cyril smiled underneath his bandanna and walked up to her. He bowed first, and the Doll repeated the action. 

"Welcome home, Good Hunter." The Doll said softly. 

"I've had another successful Hunt." Cyril answered warmly. There was a warmth in his cruel eyes that was surprising to see, but it was there. This was his home after all, the one thing that he cherished. If anything or anyone came here to defile this sacred place, he would butcher whatever intruder came here to keep it pure. 

The Doll tilted her head. "You've joined a side?" She asked.

"This world called for a Hunter." Cyril answered shrugging. "So I answered." 

The Doll nodded. "You will fight once more." She stated. 

"It is my purpose to Hunt." Cyril said. "Even...Even after what happened." He looked down after saying it before sighing. "Besides, I was hired by a noblewoman so there's that." 

The Doll said nothing. When the Good Hunter visited her a day ago to see just her, he had told her about his travels. It was something he habitually did to make sure that she was informed of his status. Sure, she felt a little lonely but the Messengers kept her good company and there was much to do about the Workshop. When Cyril felt troubled, he would usually return from the Waking World to help her clean the gravestones. Cyril dutifully made sure to also tell her about the war with the Kuroinu that he had somehow gotten into. To her, the mercenaries were just beasts in human skin. Hence why they deserved to be cut down by something just as vile as they were. 

The Plain Doll rid herself of the thoughts as she sat down next to the Hunter in the usual spot on the hill of flowers. Now was not the time for anger, her Hunter had need of her and she would be here for him, to soothe his sickly spirit. 

"Evetta, have I told you how much I appreciate you?" Cyril asked, saying the name he had given her back when he had first become a Hunter. 

The Doll smiled gently. "I am here for you, Good Hunter. Nothing will change that." 

"I know." Cyril said softly. "Thank you." 

He squeezed her hand and remained there with her until it was time for him to return to the Waking World. 

And begin his slaughter of Kuroinu anew. 

 

 


	5. Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood for Blood.

Alicia Arcturus frowned as she walked into the library the next day to find Prim alongside Cyril Sutherland, who was carrying a stack of books while Prim put them back on the shelves. First off, this was not something she wanted to see because it was clear that Cyril was a dangerous man. Second of all, he was a foreigner. Who knows what he would do with the knowledge in the Fiorire Library? Alicia crossed her arms as the last book was placed back on the shelf and Prim flinched as her lilac eyes met the Knight of Iris's. Cyril merely bowed to Alicia and Prim.

"I apologize for offending you, Lady Alicia." Cyril said blandly, causing Alicia's scowl to intensify. "Lady Prim had a stack of books that was impeding her ability to walk unhindered. I merely rendered my assistance." His cold dark eyes were blank and indifferent. He didn't care at all about offending Alicia, let alone treating her with respect as demanded by her station as a noble. 

"Just be sure to remember your place, mercenary." Alicia told him. Cyril only blinked as he turned to Prim, dismissing the Knight of Iris entirely from his mind. That rankled Alicia more than anything, the fact that he could just so readily ignore her at the drop of a hat. She had wanted to challenge him to a duel.

But already she was hearing stories about his prowess as a skilled swordsman with a body count reaching near the hundreds. The Hunter was not someone she wanted to mess with, even if he was just some lowly foreign mercenary. 

"Lady Prim, if you have need of any assistance, do not hesitate to ask it of me." He told the smaller girl. 

"Um-Um..." Prim said meekly as a mouse. "Thank you, Mister Cyril. You- You don't have to leave." 

Cyril bowed and apologized. "I am afraid I cannot. I have other contracts to fulfill, I can only say that I am sorry." He told Prim who frowned and then pouted. 

"Then, I order you to come back and rest when you are finished." Prim said determinedly. Alicia was surprised, she usually stayed quiet but it seemed that Prim was being a lot braver than back then when strangers usually caused her to hide behind Alicia way back when they were children. The Knight of Iris scowled at Cyril who ignored her once more, keeping his attention on Prim. The man's expressionless mask was disturbing, enough that Prim faltered slightly. 

Cyril then bowed again, with more formality than he had ever shown to Alicia or any other noble he had met. 

"As you wish, Lady Prim. My sword is yours if need be." His tone was distant, but notably polite. 

As the Hunter departed, Alicia scowled at his back then turned to look at Prim who flinched but admirably stood her ground. 

"Come on, I need to talk to you Prim." Alicia said, leading the younger girl towards her private quarters. Prim hesitated but she followed Alicia regardless. It was a warm, but pleasant afternoon in Feoh and in Alicia's personal estate the knights under her command were doing their drills. Pausing only to give Alicia her due obeisance, they resumed their drills promptly when Alicia had returned their salutes. They were the finest female knights, second only to the Dawn Templars of Ken led by the famed knight Claudia Levantain who was often considered the strongest knight of Eostia. 

That strength would be needed now more than ever...

* * *

 

"I do not want you anywhere near that man." 

Prim Fiorire was no longer a child, despite what everyone thought about her, but that was not something she was going to allow. Even if it was her big sister. She was shy, sure but it was during her studies that a great many knew without a doubt that she had a sharp mind and an eye for the laws that the rulers of Eostia had set forth to keep their country stable. And while many of those laws were for the convenience of the nobility, there was nothing in them that forbade a noble from having an amiable chat with someone of the lower class. 

Especially someone who had no reason to fight for them but did so anyway! 

"Alicia," Prim said. "I-I am sure master Cyril is not a bad person." She held off her stammer as Alicia looked at her sternly. "And don't think that I can't take care of myself! I can manage perfectly fine on my own!" 

"You could have asked Kendra for help." Alicia pointed out. "Or Vera who was supposed to be guarding you!" 

"I'm in a library!" Prim answered back. "Not going out in the field!" 

Alicia flinched but she did not relent. "Regardless." She said approaching Prim and hugging her. "I still worry about you, little cousin." 

Prim hugged her back. Still, she couldn't help herself. Mister Sutherland was just so curious. His garb, his cold demeanor. Everything about him was strange and new. She wanted to know everything about him. Prim Fiorire was always known as a curious soul, to the point that sometimes she could get herself into trouble. 

What she didn't know was that curiosity involving the Good Hunter was not something to be celebrated. Had she known just what he was capable of, she would have steered well clear of the man named Cyril Sutherland. 

* * *

 

The Chikage's blood stained blade sang through the air as it cleaved another green-skin's head off. Cyril advanced through the cave, putting down more orcs that got in his way. His target was another chieftain, one that was actually a bit smarter. The townsfolk of the village he had been asked to save say that the thing actually talked. A talking greenskin, now that might just amuse him for a little bit. He had always wanted to see what they would say for themselves, would they tell him that their raping and pillaging cemented their superiority over the human race? Would they tell him that it was all for the survival of their species? 

He wondered what this chieftain would tell him, or would he merely swear vengeance in the name of whatever gods they worshiped and charge him to die? The Good Hunter continued his journey, the light from the small lantern on his belt shining in the darkness of the cave. His Chikage was gripped tightly in his fist, as he rounded a corner to find more of the green-skins waiting. Their tusked faces gaped at him, even as Cyril swung his sword into the one on the left. Blinded by the blade biting into its eyes, it gave a pained roar. One of the orcs charged only to be met with a pistol shot to the face. 

The long barrel of the Evelyn pistol smoked as Cyril thrust his arm forward, the barrel punched briefly into the third orc's throat causing it to stumble back choking. Cyril thrust his sword forward into its guts, twisting the blade into the screaming orc's belly before slashing sideways to disembowel it. Covered liberally in blood, Cyril left the orc to die. The blind one stumbled about in the cave, screaming and wailing in pain. The Good Hunter ignored it. 

Disgusting swine-tusks. Again he wondered if the gods had created a race so despicable its only purpose was to be hated...

Cyril exhaled in quiet frustration. The Good Hunter's choler was inexcusable. A Hunter should not be so distracted by irritation, it only led to further madness. He calmed himself down and continued onward, loading a fresh cartridge into his Evelyn. It was an elegant weapon, favored by the Cainhurst knights. It was an improvement over his old Hunter's pistol but he kept both all the same. Nobody ever expected getting shot in the face after all and in this world it gave him a surprising advantage during combat. 

He moved at a jog until he reached the central chamber. 

More orcs, the chieftain himself and a goblin sorcerer. Troublesome. There were women in here too, but that was not his problem right now. He could feel their blank, wild eyes staring at him. The Good Hunter stepped into the torchlight. 

The Chieftain growled. "You." 

Cyril tilted his head. "Me." 

"You kill my soldiers, human. You pay with life." 

The Good Hunter sighed. "Apologies. Your friends were rather rude hosts. I came here to kill you." 

The Chieftain roared. "Kill!" 

The orcs charged in first while the goblin began its chanting, only to be interrupted as Cyril surged forward. His Chikage sang in the air as it bisected the tiny greenskin in an instant. As the sorcerer died, Cyril turned his attention on the other orcs. Two succumbed to lightning quick slashes across the throat. Another died soundlessly as the Chikage punched through its face. Two orcs tried to rush him only for Cyril to slay them both. He was fast to the point that he seemed to blur into motion. He did not stop killing until the last orc flopped to its knees. Cyril kicked it out of the way. 

The Good Hunter faced down the chieftain, who now stood up from its seat grabbing two axes at its side. Cyril readied his Chikage, the blood slowly turning into an extended blade. This was the Chikage at its finest but it was also a risky maneuver, as the red rite would start chipping away at Cyril's life force...a price that he was more than willing to pay during the Night of the Hunt. 

Cyril brandished his blade at the orc chieftain. 

He was going to kill this ugly bastard. 

/

The Chieftain, dying from severe blood loss, trembled as the Chikage sank deep into its gut. The orc could not say anything as Cyril began humming an old tune. He couldn't remember where he heard it. Bits and pieces of a past life rushed through his mind as he continued cutting the greenskin apart. Waking up on a battlefield, finding out that he was sick with the plague. Entering Yharnam, dying again and again until the Night of the Hunt had finally ended. Memories uncountable sailed through his mind even as he finished his bloody task. Still, he hummed the song. All he knew was that it was  a war chant that he could barely remember. It was a song of longing, and of vengeance against an enemy that had taken something from the grieving people. 

Cyril exited the cave at dawn and headed down the road towards Feoh. Lady Prim had asked him to return and he would do so. His contract was complete. 

Rest. 

That was a word he was unfamiliar with. But orders were orders and he certainly would not disappoint Lady Prim Fiorire of Ur. 

 


	6. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercy is something all Hunters are familiar with. Be wary of those who throw it away regularly.

_Fortress City of Ken, Celestine Lucross's personal quarters..._

 

Celestine Lucross was a humble woman, even for one who was the Goddess Incarnate. Her quarters, although stately, were quite humble and bereft of the large amount of ornamentation that most nobles were known for. The High Elf only had a few worldly possessions, most of her clothes were simple affairs. The only truly valuable item she owned was a harp that she would sometimes take up and play on her balcony on a warm night. But that was many months ago and with the war against the Kuroinu ongoing, she had no reason to play it. How she missed those peaceful days, when she would strum the strings of her harp to soothe the burdens of running a country such as Eostia. The High Elf shook her blonde hair, Celestine was indeed a beautiful woman. Wearing light, white robes that showed off every fine curve her blonde hair reached down to her ankles. Warm green eyes stared back at her in the mirror, Celestine smiled softly, as she placed her crown on her head and finished getting ready for the day. 

And what a day it would be. Once more she was going to discuss strategy with her Princess Knights and her erstwhile allies who had escaped Garan. Dear Olga had not been the same since her arrival in Ken and thus the Dark Elf usually secluded herself in her own quarters or the library.  Olga Discordia had made her escape with her handmaiden Chloe and asked to parley an alliance with her old enemy. Had the situation been less dire, Celestine would have asked herself if this was the right idea. Yet, long before she became the Queen of Eostia and before Olga took the Jagged crown of Garan they had been close friends. It was a bond that slowly descended into anger at each other. Enough to start a war over, a war that would have been costly had they both decided to enter the field of battle to face one another. 

The High Elf exited her quarters, both guards waiting at the entrance bowing their heads in supplication. That always bothered her, but she respected their loyalty regardless. The people loved her but often times she wished that they weren't so...subservient. Alas, that was her burden as a Queen. She had to live up to the expectations of the people she ruled over. If she acted the petty tyrant then she would do dishonor upon the trust given to her as High Queen of Eostia. 

 She made her way to her private parlor where Olga was waiting no doubt. The Dark Elf was sitting down in a chair, one leg crossed over the other. She was once the Queen of Garan, and the only sorceress that could rival Celestine in battle. So much so that whenever they took the field devastation was the only reward for victory. Hence why they stopped it. Celestine's smile turned bitter. Even during the war between them, they had agreed on never meeting personally in battle lest they destroy the lands they fought for. 

Olga was certainly beautiful, her exotic dark skin and midnight locks was Celestine's contrast. Where Celestine was conservative, Olga was highly provocative. Underneath the dark fine cloak she wore only a fine corset and a revealing set of underwear, though she deigned to also wear a robe underneath her cloak...she had told her that the guards would often stare or glare at her. It had annoyed the Dark Queen to the point that she usually kept to herself. 

Well, almost.

Celestine's keen eyes saw Chloe, the so-called Queen's Shadow, in the corner of the room. Her red eyes locked onto Celestine's and she hesitated for a bit before bowing slightly. Like Olga, she too wore a corset and underwear but also wore metal greaves to protect her legs. Two sharp daggers hung at her shapely hips. Chloe's long blonde hair was lashed into a side ponytail. She was half-human, a slave that Olga rescued from captivity. 

Celestine cleared her throat and Olga turned to Celestine and returned the High Elf's smile with a nod. 

"Good morning, Olga. Chloe." Celestine spoke warmly. They may have been enemies before but with the rise of Vault and his Black Dogs...things were different now. 

"Morning..." Olga rubbed her eyes. "Sorry, my friend. I did not sleep too well last night." 

To the side, Chloe frowned anxiously but kept her silence. 

"What happened?" Celestine asked concerned.  

"I did as you asked." Olga explained. "Having to keep an eye on your Shields was rather rough but worth it...I did find something of interest however." With a burst of magic, she summoned a crystal ball to her hands. She let it float above the small table in front of her. Celestine quickly took a seat. While the High Elf was a master sorceress in her own right, her former rival and friend was a bit more talented in some aspects of the arcane craft than others. 

The image in the crystal ball cleared to reveal a man in a dark coat sheathing his sword as he lifted an orc chieftain's head before quietly throwing it aside like an afterthought. Celestine shuddered. The man was covered in blood and as the view panned, Celestine could see that there were more dead orcs. All of them mangled and dismembered brutally as though a wild animal had come across this war band. How many orcs the stranger killed, they did not know. Celestine could see the emptiness in the man's dark eyes, hidden beneath a tattered triangular shaped hat. 

"Gods above...who is he?" Celestine asked. "Where did he come from?" 

Olga shook her head. "I do not know, Celestine. But he is currently in Feoh right now." 

Celestine swallowed the lump in her throat. This stranger was something to be looked at. Was he working for the Black Dogs? Already Claudia had caught several officers in the army seeking to betray them to the Black Dogs and that work was still currently underway. The High Elf was now worried, was this stranger an assassin? Working to undermine the defense of the brave Alicia Arcturus and her Knights of Iris? 

She looked to Olga who was staring unabashedly at the man in the crystal. 

Suddenly, as though sensing someone was looking at him the stranger turned and  _glared_ at Olga. She quickly cut off the magic to the crystal ball and let it roll to the floor. Only Celestine's timely application of magic saved it from shattering upon the stone floor. 

The Dark Elf stood up looking at the now clear crystal ball. She had seen much during her long centuries of hate. None of it compared to the empty soulless glare she had been given by the stranger she had scryed in the crystal. 

* * *

 

_Feoh, Arcturus Personal Estate._

Alicia found Prim with the mercenary, again the man was busy with carrying the large stack of books Prim had taken off the shelf and both were walking around putting them in the right place. Prim talked animatedly with Cyril who only replied in a polite, but quiet tone. But there was none of the disdain in his eyes. Alicia frowned at that. Their talks always ended up being one sided conversations, to the point that she often found it hard to reign in her temper. 

Cyril Sutherland was effective however, already there were rumors of him having a body count in the near hundreds. Most of them orcs but quite a few were Kuroinu mercenaries who were being found out at an alarming pace. He would pass this information to her and that was it between them. He was curt but to the point and did not dilly-dally on anything that was useless. Even Vera's friendliness and Kendra's attempts at intimidation never phased him. But here he was, talking serenely to her dear cousin. His mood seemed to change at the drop of a hat and that made her even more worried that he would do something...untoward to Prim. 

The Hunter gave Prim another book, Prim thanking him with a smile and she placed it back on the shelf. She noticed Alicia and flinched as the Knight of Iris scowled. She then gave an awkward wave while Cyril placed the books on a small end table. 

Alicia walked over and keeping her voice low, she said. 

"I thought we talked about this." 

Prim did not hesitate to defend herself. "I'm sorry Alicia, but I got more books again and Cyril offered to help me." She told Alicia, whispering. "He hasn't done or said anything bad! I merely asked how his day was!" 

Alicia sighed, she was not about to give up however. "Where is Vera?" 

They found the brown haired knight snoring in one of the seats. Prim and Cyril watched as Alicia let out an exhaled curse and quietly shook her subordinate awake. 

"Huh-Ha?" Vera's words were eloquent as she tried to make herself presentable, instead of looking like a child who had fallen asleep during her tutor's lessons and was just caught. Alicia did not look to pleased at her as she pointed at Prim and Cyril. 

Prim waved. Awkwardly. 

Vera pinched the bridge of her nose. She screwed up. 

/

"You got me in trouble." 

Cyril put down his tankard of ale. The tavern was nice and quiet, hence why he had said his farewells to Lady Prim and Lady Arcturus and headed here to take a break before going shopping. Sallya had been stepping up her display of affections but he had to politely let her down. It was to his misfortune that Vera had decided to follow him. His fist clenched slightly, which Vera noticed. She quickly waved her hand. 

"Ah, it's-it's alright." Vera spoke. "Lady Alicia's strict but she's a nice gal. I like to work for her." 

"That's funny to hear." Cyril answered. "For someone who calls me 'foreigner' or 'mercenary' on a daily basis when I report to her." 

His tone was clipped. Vera frowned.

"She doesn't mean anything by it." Vera said. 

"Aye." Was all Cyril said drinking out of the tankard once more. His tone never changed. 

Vera pouted. "Oh, come on. You've been brushing me off for a while. Can't a girl just have a chat with an interesting boy?" 

Cyril shrugged. He'd give her a few points for persistence. It was the least he could do. The pair was sitting at the bar, even as the tavern maker busily cleaned around them. Vera took a swig of ale, noticing that there was definitely a distance between Mister Cyril and the other patrons. Some were even giving the Hunter fearful glances or were outright glaring at him. The ones who were glaring at Cyril looked pale and sickly. Notably, all of them were bereft a hand. Or two. 

That and she swore there were old bloodstains on one of the tables. 

"Some of those men were not too friendly with a mercenary who was close to Lady Arcturus." Cyril said when Vera glanced at him. "So I took their hands for trying to start a fight with me. That made them think twice." 

Vera swallowed uncomfortably as she looked at the thugs in the corner. Sure she had heard of bar brawls happening around here, she had to put a stop to a few herself. But, dismembering someone who started a fight? That was just a bit too much. 

"Isn't that a little...brutal?" Vera asked looking very uncomfortable. 

Cyril shrugged. "It worked when I first came here to Eostia." He said. "If they try again, I'll just sever a leg next time." 

Vera paled. The image of several drunkards with no hands made Vera a bit green. Shaking her head, Vera took a deep drink of ale, deciding that the image was a bit to disturbing for her tastes...and a very good warning not to cross the deranged, dangerous individual she was conversing with. 

"Well!" Vera stretched her arms. "Unfortunately for you, Lady Alicia asked me to tail you and see if you're a threat. So...what are you gonna do now?" 

Cyril looked at her blankly. 

"Shopping." 

/

They left the tavern. 

Vera followed Cyril with a cheery smile as the man walked towards the armory. 

"Merciful Goddess!" The skeevy looking merchant who owned the shop looked ready to bolt. Cyril merely tipped his hat and entered the shop with Vera in tow. 

"Throwing knives." Cyril said to the merchant who pointed at an armory stand at said throwing knives. As the Hunter moved to check out the wares, Vera approached the merchant who calmed down upon seeing the knight. 

"Y-You're not here to arrest me are you?" 

Vera shook her head. "Let me guess, mister: you tried to rip him off." 

"W-Well..." The merchant shuffled uncomfortably. "Oh, hell. Yeah, I did. Just raising the prices a little. But, he's a regular now so..." He rubbed his forehead. "I've seen him around once or twice when he's not shopping for sharp objects. He's really private, Miss Knight." 

Vera nodded. "Alright, well. Just...stay out of trouble." 

She stepped aside as Cyril put down another bandoleer of throwing knives on the counter. He wordlessly counted out the coin and the merchant took them. Vera quickly followed as Cyril wordlessly left the shop. She blanched when she saw just where he was headed. The red light district wasn't a place she wanted to visit but if Cyril was staying here...

Oh gods...she hoped she wouldn't have to draw a sword here. Or start fights. The last time she did Lady Alicia had been furious with her. Kendra even more so. The slums were smelly, as usual. But most folks kept to themselves when they saw the Hunter was out and about, carrying throwing knives over his shoulders. The knight following him seemed to be a secondary thing but nobody wanted to mess with her either lest they provoke the more dangerous man walking with her. 

When Vera asked why Cyril was staying here instead of near the Arcturus estate, he only answered that it was quiet and he already had an associate giving him room and board here. He stopped at a depressing looking shack with a sign reading 'Alchemist' hanging on the door. Cyril opened the door for Vera who wrinkled her nose at the smoky smell. The woman behind the counter scowled at Cyril who ignored her and sat at one of the tables, reaching for various vials and began slathering the throwing knives with poisons. Vera took a seat next to him, noting the way the shop-keep kept glancing their way. There was a jealous gleam in her eyes. 

Vera decided that was not any of her business and continued watching Cyril put poison on his knives. Man, if Cyril wanted something dead then he'd make damn sure with the amount of poisons he was putting on them. 

"Miss Sallya is a very good alchemist with a particular expertise in poisons." Cyril explained quietly. "I can kill a man in seconds if I put one of these throwing knives in his throat." 

Vera turned to see Sallya giving her a very superior look. 

When it was finally sunset Vera went back to the estate to report to Alicia. 

All in all it was a disappointing day. Nothing interesting happened but she did learn just a little bit more about the Hunter. 

 

 


	7. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O fair maiden, why do you weep?

"Goddess! Please, wait! I didn't-" The Kuroinu mercenary was silenced as Cyril rammed his Chikage's blade right into his mouth. The man's teeth clenched around the blade before the Good Hunter removed the sword from his victim's mouth. Cyril watched blandly as the man collapsed, dead as can be. He sighed in irritation as he swung the sword down, ridding it of the impure blood that the Chikage had feasted on. He could still sense someone alive, someone he still needed to kill. The smell of voided bowels, blood and urine was a pungent stink. Such a stench would have driven weaker men into catatonia. The Good Hunter walked through the bloody grass with nary a reaction, just mild irritation that someone else was alive.  

The Good Hunter found this group scrounging around in Feoh, and wondered just what they were doing here looking at the gate. Scouts perhaps? Maybe an attack was in play and no one in Feoh knew about it. That would make even less sense as even if he did not like Alicia Arcturus, she was a lot more vigilant than what most people thought. Cyril didn't exactly have a good view of nobility, he didn't actually care about them in fact, but he knew that Alicia was of a different stock from the inbred sniveling sycophants who bore the title of 'noble'. The Good Hunter walked through the carnage that he had caused and stopped at someone he had struck down. 

With some surprise, Cyril remembered this man as the one he had shot in the back with his Evelyn pistol. The bullet had utterly shattered his spine, having been enhanced by the myriad powers of Bone Marrow Ash, a special medium used to strengthen the bullets Hunters used in their firearms. The man was crawling away, legs useless. Cyril deftly reversed the grip on his sword and stabbed the man in the shoulder, pinning him into the earth. 

The screams did not affect Cyril, merely echoing through the trees. The Kuroinu kept screaming even as Cyril pulled his head back by his lank, greasy hair. 

"Who were you scouting this gate for?" Cyril asked. 

"Damn you, you fucking monster!" The man screamed in pain, rage and in desperation clawed at the Good Hunter's grip. 

Cyril blinked and slammed the man's head into the ground once then pulled it back. He asked the same question. 

"Tell me who you were scouting this gate for." Cyril said. "Or I will make sure that your agony will be tenfold compared to what you are suffering right now." 

"Okay! Okay!" The Kuroinu mercenary yelped. "Vault's decided to hit Alicia Arcturus first! She's the weakest of the bunch! His words, I swear! I swear-" 

Cyril drew a throwing knife in his off hand and dragged it across his victim's throat, sawing deep into the man's flesh. Gurgling, the Kuroinu bled to death. The Good Hunter watched the red life fluid spread before he nodded satisfied. He sheathed his Chikage. Cyril left the Kuroinu scouts in ruins. There was no need for them to have a clean death, even if their blood was unworthy of the Chikage. Blood was still blood. 

So...the first stage of the war was beginning. He would have to report this to his superiors. 

/

_Arcturus Estate..._

"Mister Cyril?" 

Cyril watched as Kendra and Vera stepped back briefly from the sight of the Good Hunter covered in drying blood. Vera gagged as she caught sight of what looked like part of an intestine hanging off one of his shoulders. Kendra's face curdled in disgust as she watched Cyril apathetically flick the section of intestine off his shoulder. He then faced them quietly, his terrifying eyes intimidating both knights. Did they truly think he cared that they were disgusted with how he was covered in blood right now? Again, he clamped down on his irritation. He had had enough of the stares as he walked through the streets, to the point that he had knocked aside a guard who kept asking stupid questions. 

Do the people here not understand just how much danger they were in? Did they not realize that a war never stayed out of their doorsteps? Truly, it seemed these people had no idea what war could do to them...It galled him that he was now responsible for defending them. Even if the pay was worth it, part of him wanted to just leave town and just stay out of the way. 

"Are you hurt?" Vera asked. 

Cyril looked at her testily, as if she had asked a particularly stupid question. Vera just raised her hands and shook her head as if she was giving up. 

_I don't give a damn if you're concerned about my health._ Cyril had wanted to say. He opted on another sentence instead. "I found some Kuroinu scouts looking at the southern gate." He said, tonelessly. "Which is why I'm covered in blood." 

"Shit..." Vera whispered looking horrified. "How many...?" 

"Several, I didn't keep count." Cyril answered quietly. "I just killed them all." 

"They'll know what happened to their scouts." Kendra said, looking annoyed at Cyril. "Come, we must get this information to Alicia." 

"Not like this, he's not!" Vera told Kendra. "Cyril, are you hurt-" 

"No." Cyril said. He marched past them into the estate, uncaring of what the two of them were bickering about. He kept walking even as he passed by servants who gawked at him openly or dropped whatever they were doing to clean up the bloodstains he was slowly leaving behind. With some irritation, Cyril realized he had been hurt, one of the bastards had sunk a knife into his side while he had not noticed. Kendra and Vera had noticed however and their words of concern had merely blended into the background. Just more buzzing noise that Cyril ignored in favor of the damn knife wound in his side. 

Cyril grit his teeth. Bastard must have scraped his rib, because his entire left side was flaring up in pain. He reached into his coat and jabbed a Blood Vial into his side, already feeling the stinging effects as the blood sang through his veins. The sacred blood was repairing the wound with such swiftness the only thing that remained was a scar.

It was another mark of his struggle in the Waking World. Cyril had long since stopped counting his scars but was surprised at how such minor pain got an angry reaction out of him. He was sloppy, first because he received a knife wound from some untrained lout and second that he was pissed about it. He was better than this. 

He remained calm, doing his best to reign in his temper. It was no good to succumb to blood-lust. 

Another lesson Yharnam had taught him. 

/

"Impossible." 

Cyril was once again questioning just why he had signed on to Alicia Arcturus's contract. Was it the money? He surely did not do it for Alicia's favors. He watched as she stood up to face him from behind her desk. 

"Vault may have his supporters but even he is not so foolish enough to launch an attack on this Fortress." She told him. "It would be too soon and that arrogant mercenary is still having trouble keeping monsters on his side, that Dark Elf Queen said so." 

"So you trust the words of the one you had been fighting for centuries?" Cyril knew a little bit about the war between Celestine Lucross and Olga Discordia. A crock of shit but here he was, in the mercenary business when the greatest band of them ended up declaring war on their former employers to start some kind of Empire dominated by the rape of others. His irritation must have shown in his glance because Alicia had frowned. 

"I do not see why you are so worried." Alicia said dismissively. 

"I'm not." Cyril answered. "I'm just doing my job, and since I reported this and you didn't listen then I guess it isn't my problem anymore." The Good Hunter abruptly turned around and left the estate, leaving Kendra and Alicia in complete shock at his utter contempt for them all. 

"I really do not understand why you hired him, milady." Kendra said scowling. "Shall I go discipline him for his rudeness?" 

"Don't bother." Alicia told her knight. "But if his report was true, it would be foolish to dismiss it entirely. Have the guard doubled. We will continue to monitor the area for any signs of the Kuroinu mercenaries." 

Vera shook her head. "Milady, should I...?" 

Alicia sighed. "Do what you will." 

/

Cyril marched away from the office in irritation. Let the nobles disregard his report, they'd soon realize just what was going to happen to them in the dark times ahead. He knew the rumors about how the Kuroinu treated prisoners, the womenfolk were going to be especially unlucky if the Kuroinu decide to launch their attack soon. The Good Hunter didn't care much about that. He had seen enough destruction in Yharnam that another city being set on fire was just another disaster to live through...

He clenched his right fist as Prim Fiorire's smiling face appeared in his mind. Admittedly she was the only one who liked to have a pleasant conversation with him. Then Sallya's jealous stare, the sad beautiful widow whose black rage against the Kuroinu did not stop her from offering him a roof over his head and food. Cyril felt that he should have left Feoh to its fate. He did the same thing in Yharnam by leaving it all behind to be destroyed, however paltry the remains were. He let out a frustrated breath as he felt the bitterness and self loathing resurface. The same bitterness that chased after him after he gave both Arianna and Sister Adella mercy during the Night of the Hunt. Cyril let out a bitter chuckle. He had indeed been responsible for so many deaths during the Night of the Hunt that it came back to haunt him sometimes. Faces filled with agony, their voices speaking their last words. The smell of blood mixed with steel. 

Even if his nerves were ravaged by all the injuries, sometimes Cyril could feel the bite of the beasts that had bested him. The burning blades of Lady Maria were a particularly painful memory and not just because the Plain Doll was made in her image...She was among the toughest Hunters he had ever fought. Ludwig had beaten her by only a margin...and even that was before he regained some of his sanity and humanity during their battle. 

The Good Hunter's eyes turned blank in his typical thousand yard stare. He was a coward, and the knowledge stung even after Yharnam. Cyril continued walking, eventually making it to the entrance hall of the Arcturus Estate. He pointedly ignoring the guards, knowing full well they didn't like him anyway. They shouldn't worry so much, because Cyril felt the same hatred they held for him. He was going to gather up his things, leave the city before the Black Dogs came to rip it apart. He had done his job, and it was up to Alicia Arcturus to defend her city. 

His fist clenched as he again saw Prim and Sallya's faces. The bitterness returned in full force and a small voice,the tiny but resolute remnant of his humanity, in his head telling him to turn back. To say that he would fight, that he should fight until the bitter end. The Good Hunter exhaled. 

Perhaps...Perhaps the Doll would have an answer. She always seemed to know what he was thinking about. Cyril sighed then continued walking. 

Back to the Dream it was then. 

* * *

**The Hunter's Dream...**

He was standing at the gravestone that marked the final resting place of the First Hunter, Gehrman. Cyril sensed Evetta approaching, the Plain Doll moved gracefully and carefully up the hill. She took care not to disturb the Good Hunter she cared for. Cyril stood there, looking at the gravestone. It still held the name of the First Hunter engraved on its face, but unlike the others it was recently put here by the Messengers. Cyril did not know why he went up here first. Gehrman was cryptic as all hell back when he had been teaching Cyril the ropes. 

The First Hunter did not give out answers easily, and now that he was dead...Cyril didn't know why he ended up here at all. He meant to see Evetta first. But here he was, looking down at the grave of his mentor who was among the greatest hunters to have ever lived. 

"Good Hunter." 

Cyril sighed when he heard Evetta call for him. "You know, I wanted to talk to you first." He said to her as he turned around. "And I end up here thinking Gehrman might have something for me." He sighed again. 

"You are troubled, Good Hunter." Evetta said. There was no anger in her voice or pity. It was just a statement of fact. Cyril liked that about her, she didn't try to cheer him up or get him back on his feet. She was just there when he needed her. 

"I want to leave Feoh to the Black Dogs." Cyril stated. "Arcturus won't listen to me and I am not going to bother trying to convince her otherwise." He sighed. "People will suffer, I know. But I'm just one Hunter against a horde of orcs and beasts." 

The Plain Doll walked over to his side, she towered over him but there was no sense of intimidation from her. Evetta's presence was soothing to her Good Hunter, and she often washed away his troubles by the simple merit of her presence. "I will follow you wherever you go, Good Hunter." She said. "The Hunt has begun." 

Cyril closed his eyes and knew she was right. Yes, indeed. It was going to be a long night. 

The Hunt has begun. 

 

 

 


	8. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are Born of the Blood. Made men by the blood. Undone by the blood.

_Feoh's Red Light District, the home of Sallya Abelard..._

It was the dim sound of a music box that woke Sallya up from the warm dream. Her husband and her children were there, a kind man who had seen through her dark and dour moods to love her as she did him. Sallya blinked away the disappointed tears and the anger before she gathered up her blankets, wrapping herself up. The night air was cold in her shop and her bed even colder without her love there anymore. 

With a bitter chuckle, as she listened to the tinny sounds coming from whatever the music box was, she realized that her husband would have loved the music she was hearing right now. Sallya opened the door to her room and stepped into the hallway. She looked down the darkened corridor, dimly lit by the moon outside. Now she heard other sounds, it was the scraping of metal against stone. The sound of murder, a killer sharpening his instrument of death. Sallya knew who that was. But why was he playing a music box...

She steeled herself. Cyril Sutherland was the stranger she had opened her home to, all because that he fought the Kuroinu. Not for her sake, but for the coin seeing that he was under the employ of the prestigious Alicia Arcturus, Knight of Iris. Sallya would have scoffed at the title had she been more powerful. A dark mage of her caliber would have once been the envy of Feoh and Ur, but times had changed since then. Once she had been the scion of a powerful clan of mages. Not anymore. Now she was just peddling whatever concoctions she could create when she had the time...when she wasn't grieving for her dead family. 

Sallya approached Cyril's room, hearing the sound of steel being sharpened and the tinny gentle noises of a music box. 

"I know you're there." Cyril's voice was in its usual monotone but held no malice in it. Sallya lowered her hand, then opened the door. 

The Hunter was sharpening his sword with a whetstone which he had just finished putting away. Sallya marveled at the blade. It was a curved long-sword of intricate design, something that resembled the blades that the warriors of Thorn used, those who served the Shrine Maiden Kaguya. Sallya had seen such weapons before when she had gone to Thorn a long, long time ago when she was but a child. This weapon was different as it held no purity in its blade. Sallya could sense the maddened hunger within the blade, as though it was a ravenous creature that lived only to drink the blood of the enemies of its wielder. 

Cyril picked up the weapon's sheath and returned the blade, hiding it from view. The Hunter let the weapon lean against the small round table he sat beside. Sallya could still feel the gnawing hunger of the blade. She turned her attention to Cyril whose dark, emotionless eyes were locked onto hers. Sallya could never get used to him looking into her eyes like that. 

"Did you need something?" He asked, distantly. Almost wearily. Did he not sleep well? 

Sallya took a seat in front of him. "There's talk that the Kuroinu are coming to Feoh." She said. "I heard that you slew some of their scouts." 

"Aye, I did." Cyril answered softly tapping the pommel of his sword. "Maybe they're coming tomorrow, maybe not. Either way I was planning on leaving." 

Sallya felt her chest tighten. So he was leaving them to their fates. "You're not going to fight?" 

"...I don't know." Cyril's answer was toneless as usual, he instead stared at the wall instead of Sallya. "I was going to leave before...Until I saw your face." 

"My..." Sallya was confused. "What do you mean?" 

"You gave me shelter." Cyril said. "A stranger with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the sword in his hand, and you decided that was more than enough for you to open your doors and plant a roof over my head." 

He looked at her this time, his eyes held little warmth but there was sincerity in his tone. "You're a kind woman, I am grateful for that as well." 

Sallya reddened slightly at the praise, even if it made her feel bad. Nobody ever called her kind before and she found it kind of sad that Cyril considered someone like her kind. She crossed her arms and huffed. "Well...you did help me with those thugs." She said softly. 

Cyril nodded. The Hunter leaned his head back. "Are you able to defend yourself?" 

"What?" Sallya glanced at him, confused. "I'm a mage. More competent than most folks around here, so why?" 

Cyril looked ahead once more. "I have a feeling that we're going to need it." 

/

_The next day..._

As it turned out, Cyril Sutherland was right. 

Alicia Arcturus scowled as she saw the enemy at her gates. Thousands of orcs had gathered under the banner of the Black Dogs, but their numbers didn't matter. She had her knights and her soldiers were trained to be the best of the best. Alicia exhaled as she barked out orders. These beasts were not going to set one foot inside this fortress. She heard the archers get ready and with a nod she ordered them to fire upon the charging orcs. Arrows sailed through the air, sunlight reflecting off of their heads as each arrow found their mark in some unfortunate greenskin. Alicia muttered a curse under her breath as she saw orcs carrying ladders. Some were already being set up for the filthy creatures to climb the walls. 

There was no doubt that they would probably have their own siege engines, rams and the like. No matter. Alicia was going to make them pay for their insolence. The walls of Feoh were enchanted by the Goddess's magic. There was no way some paltry army of greenskins was going to get through. Her problem was that there were so many of them. Alicia shook her head. There was no time for doubt now. All she could do was defend her home from invasion. 

"Don't let them set those ladders up!" Alicia roared as she strode down the walls, she sidestepped as an orcish arrow found its mark in a soldier's throat. Two more soldiers dragged the man out of the way and back towards the healers. "Archers! Focus on those ladders!" She turned to one of the knights. "Signal the men at the gates to be prepared for anything. If they see a ram, tell them to brace the gates! We cannot allow any orcs to get inside the city!" 

The knight bowed. "Yes milady!" And she went off to do as she was bid. 

A tide of green surged forward, some carrying more ladders to scale the mighty walls of Feoh. Others carried bows of their own to shoot back at the archers on the wall. The siege of Feoh had begun. 

-

Cyril could hear the racket outside as he remained with Sallya who was busy locking up everything that she could. A herald had announced that any and all men who were able should report to the estate to be armed up and ready to fight. The women and children were being evacuated to a safer area. Cyril honestly was impressed that the red light district was also included in the evacuation order, he guessed that Prim Fiorire had something to do with it. That would have put a smile on his face had this been less...

_Boom..._

"What in the name of the Goddess was that?" Sallya asked. 

"Trouble." Cyril answered as he strapped his Chikage to his waist. "Are you going to stay here?" He asked Sallya.

”No.” Sallya answered. "I'm coming with you." 

The Hunter didn't try to dissuade her from joining him. Something was going on. That explosion came from the eastern wall. The orcs were attacking the north. Cyril opened the door to Sallya's shack as he saw people starting to flee...

From the Black Dogs themselves, although greenskins were aplenty. 

"Oh, shit. They must have blown a hole in the wall." Sallya said. 

Cyril did not see the point of engaging this early, but now that the enemy noticed him and Sallya things just took a turn for the worse. For the Black Dogs at least. 

"Well, lookie here..." 

A squad of them had surrounded the pair. Cyril idly stood there while Sally began chanting under her hood doing her best to bring her magic up for battle, although she kept an eye on Cyril. Why was he just standing there? It didn't matter, there was no way in hell that these Dogs were going to have her service them. She'd rather bite her tongue off and drown in her own blood before that happened. 

At least she would see Robin again. 

"You looking to run away with that little prize of yours?" The squad leader asked, sneering at Cyril. "Or are you gonna give her up and join us? Vault's got the right idea you know? Every bitch is supposed to do whatever we want her to-" 

The gunshot echoed for a while. Sallya had stopped chanting at that point. She had seen how fast Cyril could move but never before had she seen anyone move to the point that his hands were a blur. The squad leader went down to his knees, the neat hole in his forehead masking the bloody mess the back of his head had exploded into. The second man that was still hesitating died as Cyril stepped forward with matchless grace, drawing his Chikage and separating the man's head from his neck with a neat horizontal strike.  All of it was in one smooth motion. 

The rest of the Black Dogs had finally reacted and charged him at the same time. Cyril met that charge brandishing his sword in silence. Sallya gulped as she watched the Hunter systematically slaughter his way through the Black Dogs, the mercenaries died quickly even though they were torn apart as if carved apart by some ravenous beast, those who survived the bite of his sword didn't live for long. The Chikage was a dull blur in Cyril's hands as he sliced one mercenary open with a horizontal stroke across the gut, the mercenary screamed as he tried to keep his entrails from flopping out of his body. A second charged him from behind only for the Hunter to punch him in the throat, crushing his windpipe. Cyril ended the man's life with a single shot from his ornate pistol.  The third and fourth died to a series of strikes that opened large gashes in their bodies, they died screaming in agony as they flopped down helplessly onto the street. 

The surviving Black Dogs cowered as the Hunter stared them down, then he surged forward into them. His swordsmanship was steady, measured and extremely deadly aiming for weak points in their leather armor. For Cyril, the Black Dogs and their greenskin pets were nothing. Every bloody lesson, every skill he had learned in Yharnam during the Night of the Hunt he used against nightmarish beasts and unspeakable fiends was overkill when unleashed against mere humans. He was a Hunter and the Dogs were his prey. He killed and killed and killed...all the while his dead eyed expression never changed, even as the Black Dogs' life blood stained his coat crimson.  

By the time Cyril was done, mangled corpses lay in the street. The Hunter was covered in blood and he made nary a sound as he swung his Chikage down, ridding it of the blood it fed on. Sallya could sense the blade's blood-lust rising even more, as if the offering it had received was not enough. He lowered his cloth bandanna for a bit to sigh. Sallya shivered at his face, an emotionless mask of flesh which was made worse by callous, cold dark eyes that held nothing in them. 

"We should get moving." Cyril's toneless voice snapped Sallya out of her trance. The woman was trembling. Cyril regretted that but he didn't show it, he knew that they didn't have the luxury of time for regrets or for fear. He was committed to the fight against the Kuroinu now. It was sad that Evetta was right after all. The Hunt had begun and there was a lot of beasts that needed killing. Even if they did wear the skins of mercenaries. The Waking World was not as peaceful as it seemed and Cyril felt bitter at the unsurprising answer to the question of whether he would stay or not. It was his curse to walk a path of destruction wherever he went, Cyril regretted that. He was no longer human enough to feel anger, or curse his fate. But there was still a small part that was human enough to regret what he had to do. He regretted what Sallya had seen as a result of all this. But he would not let anything happen to her or Lady Prim. 

"But where can we go?" Sallya asked, trying very hard not to break down at what she had just seen. Sallya was no stranger to violence, she lived in the slums after all where existence was tooth and nail. But what she had just seen was the most horrifying example of slaughter, something that she now knew that Cyril was  _very_ good at. 

"The Arcturus Estate." Cyril said, pointing in the general direction of their new destination with his sword. "If anything, that place can be used as a holdout. If we're lucky, there's a hidden passage we can use to escape the city." 

He turned to Sallya. "Worst case scenario is that we're going to have to leave the city by our own strength." 

Sallya gulped but she nodded. She wondered just what she had gotten into by allowing the Hunter into her home and realized she didn't care one bit. He was strong, that was all that mattered. He was not her husband, but she would follow regardless. He protected her. 

Few people would have done that for her. 

/

_Alicia Arcturus's personal estate._

"Get back, Lady Prim!" Kendra bellowed as her sword took the life of a traitorous guard. Vera covered their backs, using her shield to bludgeon an enemy guard to the floor before taking his life with a well placed stab. Prim stayed in between them, the Iris Knights doing what they could to hold against the traitors. Kendra snarled as she pushed the enemy back. There were too many but they were knights. They would rather die than surrender Lady Prim to the traitorous dogs. 

Goddess...How were they going to hold out without assistance? 

Vera rolled her shield arm, panting as they continued moving through the estate. They needed to reach the escape route before the traitors could box them in. It was just them, Prim and a couple of Iris Knights who were just starting their tenure. 

Goddess, Vera thought, as another group of traitors rushed them eager to take Prim for their own wicked desires. Vera could see it in their eyes.

_Goddess Help us...we're lost._

Vera thought about Cyril Sutherland, the interesting mercenary Lady Alicia hired. Surely...Surely he wasn't going to leave them to the Black Dogs.

Was he? 

Kendra let out another battle cry. "Vera, don't let them get a foot near Lady Prim! Fight hard knights!  _Fight Hard!"_

 


	9. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be another time...

_Hunter's Dream, Night of the Hunt_

_/_

Cyril covered the empty grave with the last pile of earth. He had failed that little child and that indisputable fact only made him angrier at the beast pig that killed her, at Yharnam for existing. At himself...for foolishly giving her the red brooch of her dead mother and for telling her to head to the Oedon Chapel when he returned to guide her there. The Hunter breathed hard as he stabbed the shovel into the earth and leaned on it, weary to the point of despair. "I'm sorry." He whispered to the grave of the little Yharnam girl. "Gods above, I'm so sorry...why didn't you stay in the damn house!? I said I was coming back for you! I just..." He threw the shovel aside as he fell to his knees. He realized that his voice had raised and he was shaking. He felt the Doll behind him, and even the Messengers lingering on the gravestones had retreated somewhere, afraid that the Hunter they served would lash out at them. 

What the hell was he supposed to have done!? He had told her to stay in her house! He glared back at the Doll and at the graves where the Messengers were. He could feel their stares. Were they judging him? He tried his best, and people still died. That rankled him the most. That girl had been depending on him and he had failed her twice. The result had been her cruel death at the hands of a beast that didn't even know the value of the life it had just consumed for nourishment, or maybe it did and even now after its death it was still laughing at him. 

"Why didn't you stay in the house..." He muttered to the empty grave. "I was going to help you...It wasn't my fault...It wasn't my fault..." Cyril clenched his fist as he tried to calm himself down. There was no time to grieve. He had to find a way to get out of here. The reluctant Hunter stood up, looking at the grave of the child he had tried to help and failed.

Never again.

Cyril let out a shaky breath as he picked up his Saw Spear. He would not make this mistake again. He had to find the cure to the plague, that would do a lot more harm than good. Cyril nodded, still guilty about the person he had failed to save. Numbly he pulled up his bandanna and placed his hat back on his head. He turned to the Doll, who nodded and stayed silent. Cyril appreciated that, at least. She never tried to reassure him falsely or encourage him to get up and keep fighting. She was just there for him when he needed her. Cyril swore he would return that debt. He'd cure the disease. He'd find the Paleblood, whatever it was, and then he'd go home away from this gods forsaken place and he would never think on it again until the end of his days. He would toss aside his blade and live the rest of his life in peace if that was what it took for the Night to end. 

Cyril exhaled, now he had a goal and he was going to focus on it no matter what. 

If only he realized just how long the Night would become...and how much he would endure in order to survive it. 

/

_Presently, Feoh, en route to the Arcturus Estate..._

Cyril didn't know why he was thinking about Yharnam. He ducked the orc's swing then cleaved its head off with a horizontal stroke of his Chikage. Behind him, Sallya set a group of Black Dog mercenaries on fire with a single spell. She was proving to be an able mage, an invaluable asset at his side, in Yharnam and other lands beyond it the arcane studies were a dying art and no sane scholars should ever attempt to even try to unlock those secrets. He had once fought a Church Hunter who had used those same arts against him, a frustrating battle that he had ended thanks to his skill with a firearm. Perhaps, even here in Eostia, a good mage could be taken down with enough gunfire.

Or being stabbed enough times for them to fall on their faces.

The Hunter shook his head and surged forward, killing an oncoming orc with a thrust to the chest. Sallya looked over but nodded in thanks. Cyril returned the gesture. The unlikely pair of Hunter and Mage continued moving through the streets. They had to be more careful, as while the Black Dogs were busy with their usual proclivities, they still had to deal with resistance that was slowly but surely being whittled away. Alicia it seemed was not giving up her city without a fight. 

Good for her, Cyril mused. He just had to make it to the estate and then he would plan on what to do next. He took a glance at Sallya and knew that he was committed now. He smiled bitterly underneath his bandanna. He wasn't good at saving people, Yharnam was a good example of that. But...this time it would be different. This time...This time he was going to save what he could and who he could and damn anyone who got in his way. The Good Hunter kept moving until Sallya stumbled behind him. 

Cyril sheathed his sword and caught Sallya by the arm as she stumbled again. "What's wrong?" He asked her. 

Sallya let out a tired breath. "Sorry, I..." She shook her head as she put a hand on the stone wall to steady herself. "I haven't been a combat mage in...a while, I'll be fine." Sallya shook her black hair and adjusted her robes and cloak even as Cyril watched her for any more signs of exhaustion. He could see that she was quite tired but they weren't out of the woods yet. It was still a long haul to the Arcturus Estate, but Cyril was not going to abandon her here. 

Not now. 

They moved through the streets in chaos, never stopping. Not even when they saw what the Black Dogs were doing. Sallya had seen a girl get dragged into the alley by several orcs and had begged Cyril to stop them. The mage's look of anguish did nothing to put an expression in Cyril's eyes as he watched what was happening briefly. He clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword but continued on, knowing full well that if they were delayed any longer the possibility of being trapped in the Fortress City of Feoh would increase. Cyril knew that he wanted to stop and help but he was responsible for someone else now. And he had to get her out of here. 

Sallya, regardless of his reasoning, had argued about it on the way to the estate. 

"You could have saved her!" She hissed at him, angry tears forming in her eyes as she gripped his coat. "You could have stopped them!" 

"So I save that one, and another girl gets dragged into an alleyway as a plaything." Cyril said softly. "Every moment we delay, the better the chance we get trapped in here with the Black Dogs." His eyes narrowed at Sallya who looked away. 

"You're cold." Sallya whispered. "You're callous...You know you could have saved her..."

"I am not your husband, Sallya, no matter how much you wished me to be." Cyril stated frankly. That was a low blow. Sallya gaped at him in shock. "But I am trying to help you." 

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sallya snarled. 

"I could leave you here." Cyril said quietly and Sallya bit her bottom lip. She was indeed a beautiful woman, a prize for the Black Dogs. But she had given him shelter, a roof over his head and warm food to eat. It was a simple courtesy, nothing more but Cyril treasured that more than anything. The Yharnamites were suspicious folk, highly contemptuous of outsiders and Cyril had been trapped outside with the beasts and the madmen. He had in fact suffered his first death on some nameless street in the city, an unarmed man beaten to death by a mob with torches, swords and pitchforks. It was his first lesson and also the end of his trust in people. So when he returned armed and armored he had killed those madmen without pity. The beast scourge had transformed them into nothing more than animals. 

Cyril gently pried Sallya's fingers off of his coat. But he understood why she was so angry. "But, I am not going to do that." He continued. "So...shall we continue on?" His voice was dispassionate as always but there was no scorn in it. Sallya looked at him warily but she nodded. Like it or not, Cyril was her only chance of getting out of this place in one piece. She was still upset of course but pragmatically thinking he was correct. There was no way they could save everyone they ran into. The best thing to do was to escape and hopefully get a warning out to the other members of the Alliance. 

Sallya hoped that was the plan. She may have been cold to others in the Red District but nobody deserved being caught by the Black Dogs. Nobody deserved the debauchery that they would suffer under. 

* * *

 

_Arcturus Estate..._

Cyril and Sallya stopped as they saw that the estate was crawling with Black Dog mercenaries and their orc pets. Cyril holstered his pistol. 

"Why won't you use your gun?" Sallya whispered. 

"I only have one shot before I have to reload. That and it would attract too much attention." Cyril explained pointedly as he surveyed the area. "We won't win this one by brute force." 

He instead readied a throwing knife. "At least, not for now." He looked around, trying to find an alternate route to the inside of the estate. Perhaps the gardens...the patrol over there had just left, looking for more things to loot no doubt. Or for more women to use. That thought made his blood boil. The Hunter calmed himself down, then looked at Sallya who closed her hand as she finished her chants. 

"There," She said as an undercurrent of magic flowed down to her feet. "Our footsteps should be silent and it should be harder for the dogs to notice us." 

Cyril nodded. That would be most helpful in this endeavor if it lasted long enough. 

"How long?" 

Sallya sighed. "Until we reach the gardens...I can keep it up for longer if-if you need me to." She sounded utterly exhausted but Cyril could sense the steel in her. She would fight to the bitter end. He had a feeling they would need that steel nerve in the coming events. Cyril could already feel the blood on his hands. Another Hunt was approaching, and he had to wonder if it would be just as bloody as Yharnam. He suppressed a shiver of anticipation and dread at the thought of raising his blade against beasts once more. It only took the crossing of one line for a man to become no less than a beastly monster, appropriate prey for one such as he to hunt down. 

He had seen it before. Yharnam's bloody memories would never leave him, even in the tumultuous Waking World, a bittersweet revelation. 

The Hunter shook his head. "Just be ready." He told her. "If we get spotted, we're leaving anyway." He turned away from Sallya, looking for another patrol to arrive. There was none. Good. Cyril looked at Sallya, drew his sword. The unlikely pair crossed the street, heading straight towards the southern end of the estate where the gardens were. They made it in due time, barely missing another orc patrol. The city was on fire, and there was the sound of ringing steel that Cyril would have missed if he hadn't been paying attention. It seemed that not every soldier of Feoh had joined the traitorous scum that had taken the city for the Black Dogs. He took a glance at Sallya, no doubt that she had her own musings to take care of. He knew about her deceased husband who had lost her life in the war. 

Idly, he thought that the man must have been a remarkable individual if he had captured the rather taciturn mage's heart. He shook his head of the thought. 

Cyril led Sallya into the gardens, ducking behind the bushes as a pair of Black Dogs dragged a young maid to a more private area. Sallya readied a spell while Cyril tightened the grip on his Chikage. The Hunter nodded at Sallya. The mage struck first, shooting from her hand a beam of dark magic punching straight through the mercenary on the left. The man died without a sound as blood sprayed out of his mouth and he flopped uselessly onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. There was a hole the size of a dinner platter in his torso. As the second mercenary almost gave a shout at seeing his comrade's demise, Cyril's Chikage separated his head from his neck before he could even utter a sound. Such was the speed of the Good Hunter's blade that the mercenary did not even know what had happened to him, even during his passing into whatever afterlife he looked forward to. The head flew over the crying maid's head as she cowered, trying to make herself smaller if that was even possible. She was the tiniest young woman Cyril had ever seen, with her black hair cut into a fashionable but serviceable bob. She wore a typical maid's outfit with the seal of House Arcturus on her apron. Judging from how utilitarian her garb was, she seemed to be low on the totem pole of servants here. Cyril took a look around as Sallya walked over to the maid. He hoped that no one would notice them but it would be too late for that now if they were spotted. 

It was time to rid themselves of subtlety, the Black Dogs would find the price of their lives to be very high indeed. But if they had to survive Cyril would have to unleash his strength to defend the two women he had under his wing. He looked at Sallya briefly as she approached the maid. 

He thought back to the Dream quickly as he had his Messengers exchange his Saw Cleaver for his Reitterpallasch, a sword-rapier with a gun attachment. It would be good for these close quarters and the gun attachment proved to be quite an advantage to those who did not expect. Cyril felt the familiar weight of the sword on his hip. He sheathed his Chikage and drew the Reitterpallasch. He smiled grimly to himself. 

/

"Thank you, thank you both milady!" The maid squeaked as Sallya rolled her eyes. She felt relieved but there was no way in hell she was going to reveal that in front of anyone, even Cyril who was even now keeping an eye out in case the Black Dogs noticed what was going on. Sallya kept her attention to the maid who was currently groveling at her feet. 

"We don't have time for this. Stand up!" Sallya spoke seriously. The maid obeyed with a squeak which caused Sallya to roll her eyes again. Ugh...She was so subservient. She liked people with a little more backbone. "You're going to have to come with us but be quiet! It's just me and...that one." 

The maid looked over at Cyril and shivered, something that Sallya noticed. Indeed, Cyril's reputation had reached many ears in the Arcturus Household. Too bad it didn't help or really matter right now. He was just one man, despite his gruesome reputation. 

"Miss Sallya." 

Sallya and the maid jumped at the sound of Cyril's indifferent tone. The Hunter checked their surroundings before his cruel gaze rested on the young maid, the girl having shrunk even further behind Sallya if such a thing was possible. "Have you asked this young woman her name?" 

"Justine, good sir." The maid answered in Sallya's stead. "My name is Justine." She began to shrink as Cyril's impassive gaze rested on her own. 

"Justine. You will follow us to safety." Cyril said. "Stay next to Miss Sallya and you should be fine. I just hope my employer is in better straits..." He drifted off as he saw Justine's crestfallen expression. 

Wonderful. Fresh bad news was incoming. 

"Lady Alicia and Lady Prim were taken captive by V-Vault and his Black Dogs..." Justine said. 

Cyril and Sallya looked at each other. "Then things have turned serious." Cyril commented. "What of the Iris Knights?" 

Justine gulped. "They were taken to the dungeons by the Black Dogs. I think someone was thinking about selling Prim into slavery." 

Sallya and Justine flinched as Cyril's eyes narrowed. He was not pleased with that notion. In fact, he was not pleased at all. Sallya gulped as Cyril exhaled through his nose. The Hunter turned around without any preamble. 

"Show me the way to the dungeons." 

* * *

 

"Lady Prim." 

Prim's eyes were horrifically blank as she looked into Vera's eyes. The knight was currently bound and a group of Kuroinu mercenaries surrounded her. Vera smiled. She'd endure anything before Prim would get hurt. The Mortadella brothers, Conti and Ponti, half pig beast-men who were known slavers had already attached a price on Prim's fair head and had thrown Vera to the Kuroinu. She'd let them have their fun but not without its price as she tried her bonds again. 

She looked at Prim who stared back. Helpless. Because she knew it was probably going to be her turn soon. Ponti had been particularly fond of Prim's childlike looks and had said he would enjoy breaking her in for the highest bidder. Vera knew what was going to happen to her. As she felt greedy, desperate hands begin stripping her of her armor, there was a loud shout. The door flew off its hinges as Cyril Sutherland stormed in, utterly silent. The Hunter didn't even stop as he killed both men beside the door with a cut and thrust. 

"What the-" The mercenary sergeant in charge bellowed in pain as Cyril's nimble weapon stabbed into his guts. Cyril coldly pulled...something, a mechanism on his weapon's hilt, and there was the sound of thunder as the man gagged in pain. The smell of smoke covered up the more unpleasant scents in the dungeons. All around Vera, there were groups of Kuroinu mercenaries doing what they wanted to the Iris Knights in their "care". The evil men were now all caught off guard by the sudden, brutal assault they had witnessed. 

And the Good Hunter was not done yet. 

It seemed as though Cyril had come in to kill all of them. And he did. With near supernatural speed, Cyril parried a desperate sword strike meant for his head and dispatched the attacker with a single thrust to the throat. The Hunter put down another Kuroinu, slaying man after man with an economy of movement that bordered on impossible. His sword was a silver blur that was soon covered in crimson. The Hunter didn't even react as his body was stained with the lifeblood of the men he was killing. Vera worked at her bonds even as that creepy lady from before walked in, her voice a sibilant whisper as her dark magic punched through several stragglers at once. 

Spears of black magic emerged through the stone floor to impale Kuroinu mercenaries. How the racket was not heard throughout the estate was unknown to Vera but judging from Sallya's determined exhausted expression, it seemed that she was doing something to keep the noise from spreading. It looked like it was painful for her to endure. But...what really captured her attentions was Cyril. His fighting style was steady, measured, and yet no less graceful despite the bloody deaths he visited upon his enemy. Cyril's sword-rapier slashed a wide wound into another man's throat as he deftly drew his elegant pistol. The report of the firearm made Vera wince as the powerful projectile punched into a man's jaw. Blood and viscera sprayed as the Kuroinu finally broke. What few remained tried to beat a hasty retreat before Sallya's magic killed them all. 

Cyril finally lowered his sword, the sounds in the dungeon consisted only of muffled crying, heavy breathing and the groans and sobs of the dying Kuroinu mercenaries. The Hunter tracked his eyes down the dungeon corridor then he quickly began a ghoulish round of scavenging whatever he could find off of the Black Dogs he had killed. Vera worried at her bonds even as her fellow sisters in arms did what they could to help their more unfortunate comrades who had been raped or hurt by the mercenaries. 

In the back, Sallya nearly staggered to her knees but Vera saw a young maid support her on her small shoulders. Her face was filled with worry as the mage panted sounding so utterly exhausted it was a wonder that she was still on her feet, let alone conscious. Sallya glared at the dead bodies though. It was an elegant expression of hatred. Vera looked up as a shadow loomed over her, the bloody Cyril Sutherland unlocked the cell door and opened it. Vera shrugged her shoulders indicating the state of her bonds. 

For what it was worth, the bastard from before could tie a pretty good knot. 

"You came back." Vera said, laughing although it was more of a high pitched giggle more than anything. "Lady Prim?" 

"I don't think it would be a good idea for me to approach her in this state." Cyril indicated his bloodstained clothes, weapon. Everything. "But I will free you all." 

Vera gulped as Cyril cut her bonds with a small knife, one of the many throwing knives on his person, before he tucked the weapon back into its place on his bandoleer. The hunter had killed so many men in such a short span, even she didn't believe it had actually happened. She watched Cyril as the Hunter approached each cell door and unlock them. Kendra stared at Cyril's back, with him unlocking cell doors holding the Iris Knights, as he finally approached Lady Prim's cell. 

Prim's eyes glimmered with tears as she looked up at her cousin's mercenary, the one she hired and yet told to stay away from her. She shook her head as he finally unlocked the door, frantically she rushed into his chest which stunned him utterly for a few moments before he awkwardly patted her shoulder. Prim began to sob. She had been among the first ones captured and she had seen what Prime Minister Beasley had done to the nuns who she was with. He had offered them up to the demons. Such horrific sounds she had heard! The demons feasting upon the flesh of the nuns after they had toyed with them for hours. Vera had seen the same thing Prim had but she could only imagine what the innocent princess of Feoh was thinking now. She would carry such traumas to the end of her days. 

For the umpteenth time, she cursed the name of Vault and the Black Dogs. 

* * *

 

There were a total of thirty five knights who were still able to fight. Others were wounded or were in no condition to do anything at all. Feoh had fallen, that was the truth of the matter now but so long as its people still lived there was a chance that they could secure aid from the alliance and win back the city of Feoh from the Black Dogs. Cyril's objectives at the moment were not the future liberation of Feoh. Alicia Arcturus would be a trophy for the Black Dogs to lord over the Seven Shields Alliance. Thus, Cyril decided that if the Black Dogs already had Feoh then he would take Alicia away from them. 

That and he was aiming to cause as much damage to the Black Dogs leadership as possible. Vera had told him that Vault himself was the mastermind behind the attack. His cronies included the mage mastermind, Kin, and the traitorous Prime Minister Beasley who had an obsession with having Alicia under his heel as a slave. Cyril made those three his objective, much to the consternation of Vera and Sallya. 

"You can't possibly think to march up there all alone." Vera spoke, looking at the Good Hunter who ignored her. "Hey, you can't just brush me off like this!" 

Cyril narrowed his eyes annoyed as Vera grabbed his coat sleeve. "Dammit, will you listen to me!?" Vera yelled. "Are you insane, just marching up against one of the best swordsmen this land has ever seen!?" She started to shake. "I can't let a savior die, it would kill us all to see you dead." The Good Hunter blinked and his eyes lost some of their annoyed fire as he beheld just how close Vera seemed to be breaking apart. 

Sallya watched the two, being supported by Justine and another maid. The knights were grabbing whatever weapons and supplies they could and prepared to march out of the city by way of the hidden passages in the Estate for such an occasion. 

Cyril lowered his bandanna to look at Vera. "Then perhaps Cyril Sutherland dies today." He told her evenly. Death did not really bother him anymore, not since Yharnam. Vera let go, biting her bottom lip. "But I am a Hunter." He raised his cloth mask once more and turned to head out of the dungeons and into the estate proper. As he marched up the steps, he stopped for a moment and turned to look down at Vera and Sallya. 

"Good hunting." Sallya said to her partner. And she meant it. 

Cyril turned his gaze on her and gave a nod. 

"I'll be back in a few." He said with a cold laugh. 

/

The Good Hunter was going to kill his way through the estate as he rushed up the stairs and into the estate proper. Cyril advanced, a blade in each hand as he moved through the building. He could see that there were signs of battle as the corpses of orcs, Black Dogs and Feoh soldiers littered the grounds. The Hunter moved with purpose and for the first time he felt right at home. Alone, one man against what seemed to be an endless number of enemies to kill. It felt...satisfying, somehow. As if he was unleashing his fetters to become a monstrous killer. 

He heard the sounds of conversation as a Black Dog patrol came into view. 

The lead man gave a shout as he spotted the Hunter that was now rushing them, swords in hand. The Reitterpallasch in his offhand barked as Cyril pulled the trigger mechanism. The bullet punched right into the lead's throat, sending him to the floor trying to staunch the bleeding. The first two warriors got into range swinging. Cyril stepped back from the relentless assault then counterattacked with the Chikage, opening a man's belly with a low horizontal sweep. Still moving in attack, Cyril's other sword punched into the second man's throat. The tip of the blade thrust up into the mercenary's skull killing him instantly. The Good Hunter pulled the sword back and faced the rest of the patrol as they held their weapons tight in apprehension, now realizing that the man in front of them was no mere prey. That was fine. The Hunter wouldn't have it any other way. He'd show these Black Dogs what a Hunter was capable of. The Good Hunter was on the prowl and there were beasts to hunt. Gehrman would have been proud of his pupil if he had lived to see it. 

Cyril advanced mercilessly to slaughter the Black Dogs. He cut them down, turning their bodies into useless wrecks upon the ground. He went for the throat and the belly, and idly he wondered why the mercenaries did not use any decent armor; just vests, pants and boots. They were brave men, he mused, not using armor in the thick of battle. Even those who had the sense to use leather as armor were hardly any more protected than their vest clad counter parts. It was understandable why however. The Chikage and Reitterpallasch were elegant Cainhurst weapons, Cyril had painstakingly upgraded each of his blades to be as strong as possible. Man, beast, eldritch horror it didn't matter to him who or what he had slain. 

Perhaps the Night of the Hunt had also changed the properties of each weapon? To the point that they weren't really natural anymore...

A sword stroke meant for his head snapped him out of his thoughts and caused him to sidestep the attack. Cyril whirled his sword round and sliced the man's face open with a perfect downward stroke from his Chikage. Choking and dying, the mercenary dropped without a sound. Cyril sighed as he wiped his Chikage off of the dead man's shirt and then looked behind him at the trail of corpses he left in his wake. Cyril sighed wearily and continued on, blades in hand. 

He had Dogs to kill. 

 

 

 

 


	10. Apex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the intricate, rippled engraving that spans the Chikage's blade is imbued with blood, the sword sings in scarlet hues...

_En route to Ken..._

/

A hundred of her people escaped. That was it. The size of a small hamlet, all those soldiers and knights sacrificed, for hardly a handful of souls. Alicia Arcturus thought that especially unfair. She was a knight wasn't she? She was supposed to protect her people. She was supposed to protect her city. Most of all, she was supposed to protect Prim. The Princess Knight looked back at the long line of refugees from Feoh. The fact that the Fortress city had fallen because she underestimated the Black Dogs...Because she had refused to listen to the counsel of the one man who worked diligently even after all of her insults. It was behavior unfitting for a knight to treat a good warrior in such a way. 

It shamed her greatly even thinking about her actions now. Alicia looked again at the rear, searching for that one person. The one who had rescued her from the grasp of Prime Minister Beasley and the Mercenary Lord, Vault. Cyril Sutherland had deigned it his duty to rescue her from becoming a ransom, a defiled thing used by the enemy as entertainment. She knew without a doubt what Beasley had in store for her. She knew that Vault had been planning to use her as a hostage to try and bully Lady Celestine into surrendering to the so-called Sex Empire the Black Dogs were trying to create. And she had been very close to succumbing to that fate. 

Alicia looked. There he was, riding at the middle guard alongside a group of her knights. Her retainers were at the rearguard, no doubt they had their own wounds to tend to and their own thoughts to sort out. Alicia found the Good Hunter, his sinister grey coated figure with the familiar tattered tricorne hat that he always wore. He was clean now but a few days ago, in that throne room where Vault was going to hand her over to Beasley, she had seen just what he had been capable of. 

The man had fought Vault and more than twenty men to get her to safety and he had fought through even more to get her out of the Fortress City of Feoh. Even now, days later she still didn't believe that it had happened. 

* * *

_Arcturus Estate, a few days earlier..._

"Get up!" 

Alicia snarled as the two mercenaries led her through her own estate. She had lost. Now, came Vault's consolidation of the city he had conquered. Her city. Her people were out there suffering and now here she was, an absolutely disgraced knight who was about to become nothing more than cattle, entertainment for the many men of the Black Dogs. Alicia's only hope now was that Vera and Kendra had managed to escape the city with little Prim in tow. She may have been lost but at the very least she could get a warning to Her Holiness. 

She could hear the servants and whoever was left screaming for mercy as the dogs and their greenskin pets set upon them. Many would be enslaved, she was sure of that. But not her, she'd defy the Black Dogs their final victory. She'd rather die than let them touch her. She would show them what it meant to be a knight, and that meant that she was going to die standing. Even if she fought with her bare hands she vowed that she'd take a few Black Dogs with her. 

"That's a good look for you." 

Alicia looked up from her position on the ground as Vault approached, followed by a triumphant Beasley and the disgusting Mortadella brothers. The Princess Knight glared up at the mercenary king, so called for his mastery over the greatest band of mercenaries in the history of Eostia. The one that had just declared war on all of her people and spat on all of the oaths he had sworn to protect. 

"Traitorous scum." Alicia snarled. 

"Scum? I'm offended." Vault spoke scathingly. "I did all this to free the people from a tyrant who would do nothing but protect our true enemy..." 

Alicia would have snorted if she had been able to. The only true enemy here was the man who intended to turn this entire land into a hell-hole of slavery and rape. As Vault was about to continue on his rant on the Princess Knights, Alicia heard the sound of...She could not believe what that sound was...muffled...yelling? 

No...That was  _screaming_ she was hearing right now. Alicia watched as one of the doors to the courtyard suddenly burst open, the door being blasted into splinters that had surprised the two guards in front of it. Cyril Sutherland surged in, his bloody blade in hand as he hacked down the first man on the left then turned and shot the second in the face with his ornate pistol. The blonde could only gape as Cyril charged in further, brandishing his blade. He was so...fast. Inhumanly so, that it was impossible to follow his movements as he slaughtered his way closer to Vault. 

"Kill that bastard, damn you!" Beasley screamed at his guards who drew their swords. Hesitantly now, as they saw the Hunter just massacre his way through five men at once. The Prime Minister's forehead had a vein pulsing in it as he beheld the slaughter. Alicia gaped at the Hunter as he stood in a circle of devastated corpses, sword and pistol in both of his hands. He turned around to face Vault. His grey coat was covered in the blood of the Black Dogs he had just slaughtered. 

/

Twenty men were dead, and many more were probably dying in his wake. 

Cyril knew that it was never going to change. He was always going to be a murderer. There was a time once, in the murky fog of his past before he became the Good Hunter, that he would have hated himself for what he had become. He never wanted to hunt down beasts or madmen. He didn't want to kill good men and women who were too far gone. He never wanted to kill a child. But he knew it was too late to change anything now. The Hunter could only move forward, and if he had to stand atop a pile of corpses to be victorious in this war then so be it. Maybe then he would find his peace...or perhaps, perhaps it would finally be time for him to die here. Perhaps that would be for the best. He alone held the secret to Yharnam, and it was best that the mad city and its forbidden knowledge stayed dead. 

The Hunter faced down Vault, the taller and broader man had raised an arm to keep his troops from attacking. How amusing, the bastard was actually smiling. Cyril wondered what the man wanted as he stepped forward. A great-sword hung on a sling on the mercenary's back. Cyril watched carefully, eyes narrowed. Vault's bulk belied his speed, and Cyril knew enough about the so-called King of Mercenaries that he was not to be underestimated. 

"You just cut down twenty of my guys in open combat." Vault stated, his voice cheerful despite the murderous presence of the Good Hunter standing in front of him. 

"If this was the truest caliber of the men under your command, then I am truly confused as to how you've been prosecuting a war that has escalated to this point." Cyril's tone was neutral as he looked at Vault with a callous glance. The mercenary's smile was wiped off of his face as Cyril turned his head briefly at the door he had just smashed through. "And I killed more than a paltry twenty last night when I was taking a stroll through the city." 

A brazen statement to be sure. Alicia wasn't so sure that Cyril was lying however. The man had a body count of over a hundred orc war-chiefs and their war-bands in total. But against Vault? A man who was considered the greatest swordsman in Eostia? Alicia gulped as she worried at her bonds, unnoticed by the guards who were now keeping an eye on the bloody and unbowed Cyril Sutherland. She didn't like these odds. Even if Cyril was evidently a skilled swordsman, this was  _Vault_ he was facing down.  

"That's a mighty bold claim." Vault said his smile returning, briefly however. "But you're wasting your talent if you're here to rescue the little Princess bitch and her friends, little man." Vault smirked arrogantly. 

"She's paying me." Cyril shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I don't like leaving a job unfinished." 

"I could pay you more." Vault said. "I could give you riches, power and women. More than what the queen would give you, even more than what little Alicia here would give you." 

"And then what?" Cyril asked quietly. "What more will you be willing to give to me afterwards?" 

To the side Alicia's face fell as Vault considered the question. "Land? Whatever you wish, so long as your blade answers to me." 

Cyril smirked under his bandanna. "My blade answers to no one." He said as he raised his Chikage and pointed it straight at Vault, whose more magnanimous attitude was quickly replaced with fury at being snubbed by some mad foreigner. "The only thing I will seek from you is your head, which I will sever from your neck." 

Vault snarled as he drew his sword, his accompanying warriors doing the same as they drew closer to Cyril. The Hunter lost his smirk as he idly beheaded the first man that came within range of his sword's deadly bite. The Chikage's blade sang as it absorbed the blood from the bleeding, headless corpse. The red life fluid coagulated into an extension of the weapon's blade. Alicia gulped as she beheld the bloody sword in Cyril's hand, impossible as it may have seemed. The Hunter struck then and there, his blade making short work of the Black Dog mercenaries arrayed in front of him and with nightmarish speed he crossed swords with Vault. 

The mercenary lord caught Cyril's vertical stroke with his greatsword, his eyes widening as he actually felt pain from the blow. Vault grimaced as he heard the teeth grinding whine of the Chikage's bloody extended blade. The sword seemed to have become a living creature, and even he knew that being injured by this blade was not something he wanted to risk.

"Damn you!" Vault snarled as he forced the Hunter back and struck with a thrust to the leg to try and take him out of the fight by maiming him. Cyril parried with his bloody blade and went for the throat. Vault's reflexes were honed on countless battlefields and even then he barely avoided getting his throat slashed open. Vault disengaged and then went right back in with his weapon, which had a longer reach forcing Cyril back briefly as Vault made the attempt to smash the Good Hunter into paste. 

Alicia gaped. It was a duel of gods, everyone was transfixed on the sight and the sound of flashing steel. She knew she would never, ever forget what she was seeing right now. Vault was a consummate swordsman, one of the greatest and few would ever match the mercenary king. Even when he had been starting out, when Alicia had been just a young squire, there was already talk that Vault was destined for a meteoric rise through the world of swordsmanship. His skill with the greatsword was unmatched and the battlefield was said to ring with his war cries and that of his Black Dog Mercenaries. He had no match. 

Until today. Cyril Sutherland's swordsmanship in return spoke of a man who lived on the deaths of others. His swordsmanship compared to Vault's was agile but ruthless. Graceful, yet predatory. Vault fought with the skill that surpassed most men...but Cyril didn't care about that. Alicia knew now that he lived, and breathed, to end lives. Vault was a swaggering brute who lived on the rush of battle. Cyril Sutherland did not fight that way. He fought silently, with a dispassionate disregard for the lives he took. The Hunter was a killer first, last and always. 

Vault kept pushing Cyril almost to the point of nearly killing the Hunter but with astounding agility and ferocity, Cyril's Chikage blurred into motion in both hands as he lashed back at Vault with a series of blows meant to overwhelm his defenses. The Hunter began pushing the Mercenary Lord back, taking advantage of the initiative that his strikes had created. 

His sword was a crimson, bloody blur. Cyril had the advantage right now but his cold eyes glanced at Alicia, who suddenly realized his objective. With a roar, Vault attempted to lock blades with Cyril in an attempt to overpower the Hunter, but Cyril merely caught the greatsword with his own weapon and forced Vault out of his way to the left. The Good Hunter struck Vault's back with the pommel of his Chikage sending the mercenary king stumbling onto the ground in an undignified display, then went for the reason he came up here. He was out of time. Vault was cannier than expected but Cyril had other more important objectives to complete. The mercenary king would have to be dealt with at another time. Right now Alicia Arcturus needed to get out of here. 

Cyril's Chikage was a red blur as he swung at the first of Prime Minister Beasley's guards to get in his way. The swordsman died soundlessly as the red blade cut his head off. Cyril slaughtered the two other remaining guards with savage blows then went after Beasley who made the attempt to use Alicia as a hostage. Cyril swung his sword backwards, allowing the coagulated blood to fly into a charging mercenary's face. Alicia heard the sound of sizzling flesh and screaming as the guard fell over trying to remove the blood that was now eating into his eyes...and most of his face. The Princess Knight turned away just as Cyril reached her and Beasley, drawing his ornate firearm from its holster. The Prime Minister tried to draw a dagger only for the Good Hunter to put him down with a pistol shot at close range. 

Blood, brains and bits of skull flew through the air in a spectacular array of gore as Cyril let the corpse of the fat minister hit the stone floor. On the other side of the central gardens that had turned into a killing ground, Vault was helped up by two of his cronies. The mercenary king's fury was apoplectic as Cyril helped Alicia to her feet, quickly cutting her bonds. 

"How...?" Alicia asked quietly as Cyril holstered his pistol. 

"Lady Prim is with some of your knights." Cyril spoke over her concerns. "And we are going to join them. Stay close to me." 

"Don't just stand there, KILL THEM!" Vault roared at his mercenaries. 

Cyril readied his sword. "As I said, stay close to me." He deadpanned. 

Alicia exhaled as she clenched her fists. She was deprived of a weapon but that didn't mean she couldn't fight. All she needed was a weapon...

The problem was not getting killed. 

* * *

_Presently..._

"Orcs! Coming in from the East!" 

Alicia heard the rider before she got back into position. She shook her head of her thoughts as she drew her sword. "How many!?" She snapped at the scout who had ridden ahead. "How many of the greenskins are there!?" She swore to herself. She only had thirty-seven knights, and many of those were walking wounded or they wouldn't fight at all, such was their torment in the dungeons of Feoh. She gritted her teeth. This was no time to regret their situation, they could only fight off this war band. She had to get these refugees to safety, that was all she could do right now. On her honor as a knight, when she had arrived in Ken she would find a way to repay Vault for taking Feoh away from her. 

And for hurting Prim. 

The greenskins came at them waving a banner. Good, no Black Dogs among them yet. If the traitors caught wind of the caravan fleeing Feoh she had no way of defending them from such an assault. Alicia looked to her knights then shook her head. She had to focus, even if Cyril was more than capable of handling this by himself there was no time. As far as she knew, he was at the rearguard to make sure that the refugees of Feoh were safe. That was where she assigned him, because he could defend the refugees from orcs. 

"Form up!" She snapped. "We'll hit them first, and circle back to hit them again. Ride hard, my Knights! Our people must be defended!" 

There was a fierce war cry coming from the Iris Knights. They may have lost Feoh but they were still standing. That was what mattered. Alicia would gain her city and her honor back. She would die trying to do so. 

/

The rearguard had to be held. It was, to most soldiers who were too naive on the battlefield, a duty without much honor in it but those who were wise enough to know about the battlefield were aware of just how important it was to protect your flanks. Cyril was a murderer but even he could appreciate the value of a solid back guard. Whoever was leading this war band was quite clever, having sent some of the strongest orcs to lay waste to the refugee caravan here. 

Cyril put a stop to that. 

The Good Hunter smote down another wretched greenskin with a single swing of his Chikage. He advanced slowly, mercilessly through the carnage as he made a quick stop to retrieve the Reitterpallasch from the corpse of the goblin sorcerer he had skewered moments before. Several of the knights who were holding the line stared in awe. Cyril gave them only a glance, having seen many with debilitating injuries. Many of these battle hardened men and women would not be returning to the battlefield any time soon. Others were walking wounded who could fight. He wondered just how they were going to get out of this. 

The Hunter struck down another Orc to shake himself of these thoughts. His concern right now was the rearguard as he faced off against a huge brute with two cleavers. A brute that was tearing across the field to get to him.  _Him_ of all people. Cyril held both his Chikage and Reitterpallasch loosely before he met the green-skin's charge with his own. The Reitterpallasch's pistol attachment let out a thunderous boom and the bullet smashed into the orc's right shoulder. Remarkably it was still going, regardless of the now bleeding right arm that hung limply. The greenskin bellowed in anger as Cyril dodged the mighty, but telegraphed, swing that had every right to separate a man's head from his neck. The short range of the cleaver hampered it further against the Good Hunter. 

In comparison, the Hunter didn't spare the greenskin a glance as he cut it down to size. As the orc fell onto its knees it raised its head trying to give a roar only for the Reitterpallasch to punch right into its eye and into the skull and brain behind it. Dully, Cyril pulled the blade back and surveyed his work...A tally of fifteen greenskins. The Hunter cleaned off his blades and went to check on the refugees. No doubt there would be casualties. Cyril couldn't do anything about that, he was more concerned with those who lived not those who died. 

The Good Hunter sheathed both blades, idly walking back to camp even as the warriors of Feoh gaped at him openly. 


	11. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the chalice reveal the tomb of the gods; let blood be the Hunter's nourishment.
> 
> Always fear the flame, lest you be devoured by it, and lose yourself...

_Seven Shields Alliance Camp, border of Ken..._

"Say..how long are we gonna wait here, Claudia? It's getting boring..." 

Claudia Levantine sighed with practiced patience as she looked down at her more diminutive companion. Though she looked (and acted) like a child, Luu-Luu was a half-ling many times older than she presented herself as. That and anyone who thought otherwise usually backed off when they saw just how strong she was. The gigantic axe that towered over her childlike form was more than enough warning for everyone to heed. She wore light leather armor, covered by a large cloak. A hat was set haphazardly on top of her braided ginger hair and her bright eyes were keen with curiosity. In comparison, Claudia Levantine was a strong and robustly built woman covered head to toe in heavy armor save for the helmet. She had her auburn hair tight in a bun. She was a beautiful knight, though there were those who held her as second to Her Holiness Celestine Lucross. 

Honestly she found it both humbling and absolutely absurd sometimes. 

Claudia exhaled through her nose. "You and I both know that Her Holiness has asked us to escort the refugees from Feoh back to Ken, Luu-Luu." She said, explaining just why they had two full companies of soldiers out on the road to Ken to keep a lookout for the column of refugees. Claudia had made sure that her warriors were in prime position to repel any Black Dog forces or their orc pets. The mercenaries had knowledge of roads into Ken but they surely would meet their match when faced with the iron discipline of the Dawn Templars. As their leader, Claudia made sure that her knights were the best and brightest lights to ever serve the Goddess Reborn. Having Luu-Luu and her rowdy but insanely strong half-lings was a plus as well. Alongside Maia's own company of mercenaries, Claudia was confident that they could hold off any assault from the Black Dogs. 

Still, not hearing from Alicia or Prim was...concerning. Claudia could count on Alicia Arcturus in keeping Prim safe. Alicia had studied under her wing for a while, the young woman had proven herself to be an eager and honorable knight, leading the Knights of Iris to victory in several battles against the Black Dogs to keep them at bay. But to hear that Feoh had fallen...to know that Alicia had somehow been driven from her beloved home...

Claudia shook her head as she looked over the map. Feoh had been taken by the Black Dogs, that would make Ur all the more vulnerable to being overtaken as well. The knight commander sighed as she massaged her temples and brushed back her auburn locks. Her blue eyes looked through the tent flap. It was a sunny day, peaceful even with not a cloud in the sky. It was a mockery of what they had all suffered in this war. 

 _From one war to the next..._ She thought bitterly. She had thought that the Black Dogs would be able to complete their mission. That they would be able to deliver Olga Discordia to justice. Now it was Olga Discordia helping them bring the dastardly Vault to justice. The one who wished to create a kingdom based on the slavery and rape of women, where he claimed that every man had the right to rule as kings. All because he believed that the Princess Knights and the Dark Elves were responsible for starting the last war. The irony was...insulting to the centuries of suffering the people had endured and now, just as the Alliance was about to usher in a new era of peace this happened. 

Claudia fought the urge to spit. Long may the name of Vault be cursed for doing this to the country she loved so dearly. The Princess Knight continued studying the map, long into the afternoon. She wondered just what else was going to happen now. 

"Claudia!!" Luu-Luu thundered as she came in. Claudia winced. While Luu-Luu had a diminutive stature, she would certainly not be forgotten in a crowd. 

"What is it, Luu-Luu?" Claudia asked as she stood up while trying to pretend that Luu-Luu had not startled her in any way. 

"Maia went off on her own. There's a village that's under attack that needed help." Luu-Luu said, the expression on her face was serious. Uncharacteristic for someone so carefree. 

Claudia swore. For the umpteenth time she cursed the name of the Black Dogs. Still, Maia was no slouch in combat and her mercenaries were trained to a high standard. She could handle this on her own. Still, Claudia wanted Maia to have some back up at least. 

"Go after her and help her." Claudia told Luu-Luu. "I can handle things here, but you need to hurry." 

"She has a head start." Luu-Luu grinned fiercely as she fixed her hat. "I hope she saves some of those greenskins for me!" 

* * *

 

_Feoh Refugee Convoy, en route to Ken..._

Cyril sharpened the blade of the Chikage in the shelter of his tent. The convoy had at last made its way closer to Ken but he could feel no relief from the refugees. The civilians knew now that their lives were ruined and shattered. The Hunter could smell the fear, see it in their eyes. Hope was rare here and he knew that many were close to breaking. Cyril stopped sharpening his blade when his tent flap opened and Sallya walked in. The mage was exhausted but she sat down on the cot beside his. 

"I suppose you're not going to ask me how I am?" She asked. 

Cyril didn't say anything for a while and reached for the sheath of his sword. "What happened?" 

Sallya shook her head scowling. "Ignorance." She said to him. "Someone found out about that evil Dark mage Alchemist in the red district." 

Cyril sheathed his Chikage. "So there are those who do not respect what you do." He said blandly. "What of it? You have your way of living. They have theirs." 

Sallya glumly crossed her legs then rested her chin in her hand. "I'm not the one people are afraid of." She said. "Dark mages have always been despised in Eostia. My family..." She shut her mouth, not wanting to talk about that. "Anyway, these mouth breathers think they're going to cause me trouble. I'm just...ugh, irritated." She drifted off into an annoyed silence as she stared at the grass. 

Cyril watched her from the corner of his eye as he tapped the pommel of the Chikage. Sallya was quite a beauty in his eyes, while his sanity was in a questionable state there was no denying that Sallya was attractive. A lean, slender build. Fair features only marred by a perpetual scowl. Dark eyes someone could get lost in. The Hunter's thoughts drifted away from that, easily of course. Cyril didn't pay attention to anything other than his job. Which was murder. For him there was only a brief respite before the coming of another storm of bloodshed. 

It seemed today he was going to have to do something about troublemakers if they were distressing his partner. He idly tapped the pommel of his sheathed Chikage. 

"How many?" Cyril asked. Sallya tilted her head at him confused.

"What?" 

"I said how many of them are there? I shall deal with them if needed." 

Sallya let her hand fall to her lap as she realized what he was going to do. Cyril was looking at her expectantly, his blank eyes filled with nothing but a calculating expression. The Dark Mage sighed. Ordinarily she would have scoffed at the thought of a man helping her, until she met Robin she had been always on her own and had defended herself from more than one unruly suitor, or a prejudiced troublemaker. That had not changed since her husband's death. But now with someone as murderous as the Hunter...And with what was left of the refugee camp from the orc attacks she was surprised that it happened. Dark Mages were absolutely reviled in Eostia, what with the "legendary" reputation of the Dark Elf Queen Olga Discordia. 

"You're...not going to go and fight them are you?" Sallya asked, not that she cared. But getting in more trouble with Alicia Arcturus because she had gotten several people killed was not something she was looking forward to. 

"No, I figured ending their lives would spare you trouble and everyone here from wasting the supplies on the unworthy." Cyril said softly. 

Sallya shook her head. "Look...I'm annoyed." She stated calmly, finding it really weird that she had to explain this to someone. But her partner in battle was...well, strange. Lethal, but strange nonetheless. "But not enough to want them dead. Besides they are guards, I can't really say anything to Lady Alicia anyhow." 

"Then what do you want me to do?" Cyril asked. "They are insulting my partner and are threatening to harm her. I will not let that stand." 

Sallya sighed, although she felt a small bit of gratitude when he said that. 

"Just...Just watch my back, okay?" She said sighing. "Look...We've got a meeting coming up with Princess Alicia." 

Cyril leaned forward. "I see." He said. "And why does she want me involved?" 

"It's about moving forward..." Sallya answered. "And I think she wants you on hand as a witness when we get to Ken." 

Cyril could understand that. Although he did not know what his input would change. He was just a Hunter doing his job, not a commander of an army. His talents were more suited to murder, but either way Alicia was his employer. She had a job for him and he was technically still under contract. So be it. He'd meet this head on. 

"When's the meeting?" 

"This afternoon." 

/

Alicia exhaled slightly as she saw Cyril Sutherland and his partner enter the tent last. The group consisted of Father Abraham, the de-facto leader of the civilians. Kendra who was her appointed second in command. Bainbridge, the leader of the regular troopers who were the ones responsible for guarding the civilians, and then finally...

Cyril Sutherland. The mercenary she had hired and the one who had rescued her. She was still not used to his presence but it was clear from the way there was a space between him and his partner, the Dark Mage, everyone knew that he was responsible for many deaths. Some hailed him as a hero but there were many who believed him to be a monster disguised as a human. Alicia was not sure what to think of him yet, but he had protected Prim and had rescued her from the schemes of the Black Dogs. Alicia turned away from the blank gaze of the Hunter and focused on the group inside the command tent. 

"Thank you all for coming." Alicia spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear. "We've been through a long journey together, and it seems that our efforts have born fruit." 

"We're close to Ken now." Father Abraham commented. "Thank the Goddess that this accursed journey is over." A gentle man in every sense, Abraham did his best to keep the small community's spirit up and did so by reciting words from the book that he carried around. Celestine Lucross was a very outspoken woman and with centuries of experience she professed that all should try to live humble and fruitful lives, often times her sayings were recorded by the more faithful and were spread by priests. 

"The war's still going on." Bainbridge said. The man looked harried and having lost a lot of men to the last orc attack, it was clear that he was rather worn out. Morale was also low seeing that Feoh had fallen to Vault and the Black Dogs. Several of the men next to him nodded their assent. "We lost Feoh, and we lost a lot of our friends." 

"Aye, we all lost something." Kendra spoke up and Bainbridge glared at her. "But that does not mean we have to give up." 

"Speak for yourself." Bainbridge snarled. "You knights have always looked down on us common soldiers. We bled while you reaped all the glory. We should have surrendered when the Black Dogs went in, at least they care about their men." 

Before Alicia could start trying to salvage the situation, a sibilant voice spoke up. "I do have a question now...Are there Black Dogs in this tent, good sir?" 

Everyone turned to Cyril Sutherland who had stepped forward in Bainbridge's direction. The soldier turned to the Hunter who had a hand leaning on the hilt of his Reitterpallasch. There was a palpable feeling of dread in the tent. Alicia heard Vera swallow a lump in her throat as Cyril regarded the older man with the air of someone who had discovered an insect and was about to crush it with his boot. There was no doubt that Cyril was more than capable of ending the hopefully not traitorous soldiers in their midst. Bainbridge was more than likely to have a sword thrust into his throat than not. Alicia held out a hand to keep Vera from acting, in case they just made things worse. 

"I asked a question, soldier." Cyril said to Bainbridge. "Are there any Black Dogs in this tent? Because if they are, I will be forced to kill them because I am still under contract to do so." His tone was cold, remorseless but tinged with a warning. 

Bainbridge gulped, paling as he realized who was talking to him. The Hunter was a well known figure now, considering that he had slain an orc war-chief in single combat and many more greenskins than anyone could count. He was a vicious fighter and those who got in his way tended to die very horribly. Alicia knew that because he had fought against Vault one on one and nearly won. That was more terrifying than anything she had witnessed. 

"Stand down, master Cyril." Alicia spoke up before there was a massacre in her tent. She turned to Bainbridge with a scowl that silenced him before she turned her attention to the others. "I know that I do not deserve the trust of anyone in this tent. I was the one who lost Feoh thanks to my arrogance and I swear upon my life that I will fix that." She continued, speaking more to those who were in her command tent. 

"My word may be nothing to many of you but it is all I can do; I promise that one day, Vault will pay for his crimes and that Feoh will be returned to the Alliance. But please...for now, I ask that all of you help me in the last foot of this journey to Ken." She bowed her head, a humble gesture from one so proud. Vera and Kendra had not expected it, both were so shocked to see their commander lower her head to anyone. 

It was...quite a moment to some. But for the Hunter it was more than enough. He quietly turned his attention from the traitorous scum he was probably still going to kill to his employer. 

"You still have me under contract." Cyril said. "I'll see this job through." 

With that, he exited the tent. Sallya looked from Alicia to Cyril then followed her partner after shrugging. 

* * *

_Ken, former hamlet of Aremar..._

The cloying, coppery stench of blood after a slaughter mixed with the smell of ash and dust. 

He was used to it. Lordran was a merciless place, one that consumed everything a person could be and left only a husk of whatever they were in the past. He was Undead...That was a truth that many would not understand in this new world he was in. A revenant one would say, others would call him an abomination against life. The Pyromancer leaned on the hilt of his Claymore, a two handed weapon that he was quite familiar with, having slain what was left of four gods and then walked away forever. 

The heavy boots and robes of his attire were eternally covered in ash and soot. Underneath his hood was a scarred visage, with ashen grey hair and dark eyes. Yet still, he smiled in relief. Relief that he was alive and that the green skinned creatures and their craven masters were dead all around him. The Pyromancer rolled his shoulders, then unbuckled the Claymore's sheath from the harness on his back, tiredly sheathed the great blade and slung it over his shoulder alongside his shield. Hanging from his belt was a well worn hand axe, it may have looked like a mere peasant's tool but it was just as capable a weapon as the Claymore. 

The Undead looked around at the ruins of the hamlet he had wandered into. Unfortunate that the people here were no longer among the living, and the living ones he had encountered were hostile. So he did as he always did when faced with hostility, he burned out the enemy with his Pyromancy and when close quarters battle was imminent he turned to using his blade in combat. Hence why he had taken to using the Claymore. There were other weapons he had, all of which were in the handy magical box he had in his satchel. But the greatsword was where he turned most of his talents. He was not a master swordsman, but combat against dragons, other more powerful Undead and other horrible things tended to be a great teacher.

And the lesson, as always, was to come out alive. Strange then, that he had been killed so many times that he was used to death...More so than any other. The Pyromancer dusted off his leggings and boots, then steeled himself for another long walk to avoid civilization. He could pass off as human at a glance but if one were to look closely...

They would see the one curse that plagued him constantly even in this...bright new world filled with light and life. 

The Darksign, the curse of undeath. All who bore this mark were someday fated to become a Hollow, an empty shell. The Pyromancer had seen first hand just what that process entailed, and knew it was his fate to become one. He just wasn't ready yet. And now...here he was, an Undead with nowhere to return to and nowhere else to go. What was one to do in that situation? 

What the Chosen Undead decided to do was to first find some civilization. And, as it always has been with his luck, the first sign was hostile. Humans...and green skinned humanoids. He didn't care what they wanted. When arrows started flying in his direction, the Pyromancer reacted as he always did. 

Flames...and the bite of Titanite enhanced steel. 

His eyes narrowed as he heard the sound of hoof beats. 

Perhaps this was another chance at battle? 

Or maybe something else was going to happen. 

He readied his Pyromancy glove as he faced the direction of where the riders were coming from. Flames burst into life briefly as the Chosen Undead readied himself for a fight. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Fuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Pyromancer, a flame is a precious thing indeed, to be nurtured often for a lifetime. When the flame is shared, an eternal bond is forged between the parties. 
> 
> The Hunt...it demands a price. Many seek it but few are willing to pay that price.

_Former hamlet of Aremar, Ken..._

Maia was not sure what to make of the strange figure that stood in the midst of all the destruction but she was sure he was part of the reason why there were dead green-skins and Black Dogs everywhere. The red haired mercenary kept a hand on the hilt of one of her short blades as she and her warrior band came to a stop in the middle of the former hamlet. There was the stench of ash in the air, no doubt the reason being the stranger in the tattered robes with fire in one hand and a good looking shield in the other. Maia instantly locked her eyes onto the greatsword hanging off his back and the crude looking hand axe on his belt. 

The mercenary was good at reading her opponents, that was the reason why she was still alive to this day...but this guy wasn't a pushover and if he could take down an entire group of orcs and mercenaries by himself then there was a good chance that even she'd be pressed hard if someone initiated combat. He was a mage of some kind, judging from the way he was handling fire in his off hand. Fire that she guessed, with no small amount of dread, was responsible for the Black Dogs being burned to crisps. Maia also saw power in that lean frame of his, now wary of the greatsword on his back and the axe strapped to his waist. A formidable opponent if provoked. She had to be careful here or all of them would be joining the Black Dogs that were reduced to-

"You there, stranger!" 

Maia winced as one of her subordinates, Iobel, walked her horse forward and looked down at the stranger with his flaming hand and his shield. To his credit the man didn't even flinch at the potential of being swamped. Iobel was tall and muscular, with short cropped hair and a boyish face that looked pretty mean with a scowl.  "To whom do you owe your allegiance!?" 

"Sheesh, Iobel...No need to rip the stranger's head off. That's a bad idea anyway considering how many of the Black Dogs he had just burned to a crisp." Charlotte, Maia's second in command muttered. Unlike Iobel, Charlotte was a pretty blonde with a tall womanly figure but also a formidable swordswoman with the pragmatism to match. Maia trusted her instincts, and if Charlotte was nervous that made Maia nervous too as she eyed Iobel and the stranger carefully. Her mercenaries were capable warriors all but Maia was not so sure she was willing to pay the price of starting a fight with a capable mage in this environment. 

Swearing under her breath, Maia was about to intervene when the stranger lowered his off hand, letting the gathering flame disappear. "I beg your pardon, good lady." His voice was strong, not unlike a growl but stable as a mountain. "I'm just a traveler passing through. I am not familiar with these lands however..." He looked around, seeming confused as to how he got here. 

Maia could feel a smile forming on her face. "You're in Eostia, fella." She said, diffusing the situation before Iobel could make it any worse, as she swung her legs over her horse's side and dismounted smoothly. "And I think you picked a bad, bad time to start wandering around on your lonesome if I say so myself." She sighed. Yet another wandering mercenary, it was surprising the Black Dogs haven't scooped him up yet like a lot of the swords for hire around here. Vault capitalized on man's greed hence why his reach was long in the kingdom of Eostia. Orc tribes had also responded to his banner call and greenskins were a common sight among the Black Dog raiding bands. 

"Ah?" The stranger tilted his hooded head. 

"There's a war going on." Maia frowned. "Have you been living under a rock for these past few months?" She saw that the stranger had sighed and looked down at his feet feeling rather foolish now. 

"I made a point of trying to avoid these situations but..." He looked around at the devastation around him and he spoke feeling quite a bit sheepish. "I seem to have really stepped in it have I?" 

Despite herself, Maia smirked. This guy didn't seem to be a potential rapist. Either that or he was a bit of a loon not to realize that there was a war going on. "Aye..." She agreed with him. "Still, you'd best come with us if you're lost. We can help you get on your way if you want." 

"Ah, right." The stranger's cheerful tone lowered the tension quite a bit, even if Iobel had contented herself with glaring at the side of his head. "I suppose I should come with you. No harm in making sure that my intentions are...noble right?" 

"What's your name friend?' Charlotte asked. 

"Talos. My name is Talos, Pyromancer of the Great Swamp." There was a smile underneath that hood. Maia found herself wanting to see it. It wasn't everyday when you met a nice guy wandering around on his lonesome. 

* * *

 

With Talos in tow, Maia's mercenaries were headed back towards the Alliance camp that was waiting for Alicia's return. The thought of the often headstrong and prideful blonde Princess Knight caused Maia's smile to dip. She frowned as she thought back on the news that Celestine had shared with them all.  Feoh had fallen, which made Ur another tempting target for the Black Dogs to take. Maia looked back to the stranger in their midst. Talos was weathering Iobel's glares with subtle grace but he idly chatted with some of the ladies in her company. Charlotte already liked the guy, seeing him as social if a bit...strange. He didn't take off his hood, but from what she could see he was just a few years older than most of the women in her company. Already, his sociable nature made him a bit of a target. 

Maia didn't mind. All of the women under her command were hot blooded. It wasn't a problem after battles when they went off with a young, strapping man for a romp in the night or two. It was just concerning now that all of them seemed to hover around their new "friend" in a manner similar to vultures that had found a sizable carcass to feed on. If the man showed any concern as to how he was being targeted by several amorous women seeking a fun night then he was to be commended for showing quite an amount of restraint. Either that or he was more of a loon than what she had taken him for. Or...maybe he liked boys instead of girls. 

"I don't trust him." Maia heard Iobel complain to Charlotte. "We just picked up a dangerous stray and already everyone wants to shake his hands? What has the world come to?" 

"Oh, please Iobel. Anyone who can put down a bunch of mad dogs and green-skins is a good man in my book." Charlotte scoffed in return. "Just relax, we're a bit more skilled than the average Black Dog. He won't try anything with all of us around him." 

"Considering that he burned about fifty enemy troops in total all by himself, that certainly inspires confidence Charlotte." Iobel deadpanned and threw a scowl back at Talos. 

With the few women under Maia's command plying the Pyromancer with questions, Talos didn't seem to have noticed until he turned forward. Iobel flinched as Talos looked at her. The Pyromancer's eyes were hidden underneath his hood but the bastard was studying her before he turned his attention forward, adjusting the grip on the reins of his horse. 

"Bastard." Iobel muttered under her breath.

/

_Alliance Camp..._

"All of them?" Claudia asked Maia who stretched her arms up as she leaned back lazily in her chair. The mercenary gave Claudia a look as she cracked her knuckles. 

"Yep." Maia answered. "An entire camp, I didn't have time to make an accurate count but I'm thinking this guy killed fifty. Including the green-skins, so I'm pretty impressed to be honest." 

"On his own..." Claudia mused. The formidable commander of the Dawn Templars scowled. Such a man would be considered a monster in normal times but as the Black Dogs had shown this war was very different from the last one. Perhaps they would have need of someone with such murderous talents, assuming Celestine could live with that. She sighed. "Well...If this Talos the Pyromancer is willing to help as you say he was. Let him join up." Claudia said. 

Maia grinned. "What, scared that someone else might take up Vault's mantle as an even bigger fiend?" 

"The swordsman who Alicia hired nearly did." Claudia spoke gravely. 

Maia's grin was wiped from her face with the rapidity of a war horse on full gallop.  _"What?"_ She asked all levity gone from her voice, all of it quickly giving way to dread. 

"Aye. Another mercenary from lands unknown. Apparently he was actively taking down entire orc war bands on his own up in Feoh before Alicia hired him on as an agent." Claudia shook her head. "He was there at Feoh when it fell. Alicia says he was the only reason she managed to escape with the people she is with." The Princess Knight scowled at the thought of such a monstrous killer in Alicia's company but at the same time she worried about her protege. If it was true that she had such a man under her employ then Claudia only hoped that she had some kind of leverage at hand. There was no doubt what amount of damage such a skilled individual could do under Vault's wing. It galled her to think of working with such scum as a hired sword. 

"Damn." Maia said, laughing nervously. "And he also fought Vault to a standstill?" 

"If Alicia's rescue hadn't been the mercenary's objective from the start, this war would have ended already with Vault's head removed from his shoulders." Claudia answered. The knight stood up. "Well, we can hear the entire thing from Alicia when she gets here. Scouts report that she's in the area. Her outriders just came in a few hours ago before you got back." 

Maia stood up as well. "I have to hear this." She told Claudia. "That and I have to go meet that mercenary Alicia's gushing about." The red haired mercenary exited the tent with Claudia at her side. Off at a distance, she saw Luu-Luu and Talos walking around. Well, mostly it was Luu-Luu dragging the poor Pyromancer through the camp heedless of the stranger's discomfort...that she was seeing right now. Maia smiled as she saw that the stranger's hood had fallen off, revealing a man in the same age as she was. His grey hair was notable throughout the camp as someone that young should not have had a head full of hair that shade. It was his eyes that could catch someone off guard however. They were a clear icy blue, much like the sky above. Those eyes belonged to someone who had seen much of the world, and had found a truth that one kept to themselves. He was rugged, yet handsome with some stubble already growing on the lower half of his face. 

 _Huh..._ Maia thought.  _I didn't expect to pick up a looker. Especially those eyes, a girl could get lost in those..._ The mercenary kept going, still chuckling at how Luu-Luu was pulling around the poor man around despite being half his size. She had always been a curious Half-Ling, even declaring that she would go explore the seas beyond Eostia. To see if there were any other lands across the blue waves and meet the strange people there. Many thought it nothing more than a strange fancy but, privately, Maia knew she was going to do it and simply prayed that Luu-Luu would make it back to tell stories. Luu-Luu was enamored with other cultures, which made her quite approachable despite her desires for experimenting on new technologies. She had gained her reputation as a master weapon smith for a reason after all. Talos had better be ready for questions because Luu-Luu would not, and will not, stop until sundown. 

Maybe past it if he was that unlucky.

* * *

Alicia sighed in relief as she beheld the blue banner of Claudia's Dawn Templars and the red and green flags of Maia's mercenary company and Luu-Luu's ferocious half-ling fighters. She was in friendly territory now and she could rest easy. She turned her head towards Prim who rode beside her. On her left was Kendra and Vera. Prim was clearly still distraught about losing Feoh but she gave a brief smile that Alicia returned. The sight warmed her heart even as she steeled herself for the inevitable report she was going to have to make. And she also had to introduce her newest, bloodiest, agent. Alicia was not looking forward to the incoming conversation she was going to have with both her mentor and Her Holiness. That and she was going to have to coordinate with the Alliance tacticians on how to take back Feoh from the clutches of the Black Dogs. 

"We made it." 

"Thank the Goddess. We're safe!" 

Alicia smiled upon hearing those words from assorted civilians. The knights under her command began to chatter excitedly as well. Alicia kept her focus although she did glance at the Hunter that rode behind her retinue. Cyril Sutherland kept his eyes straight ahead, utterly silent. Beside him was the Dark mage Sallya. She turned back around when he noticed, as his eyes had narrowed considerably underneath his tattered tricorn hat. For the record the Hunter said nothing and merely continued observing his surroundings. Alicia still was not comfortable around him but with his sword skills added to the Alliance's talent pool, they would surely win this war. 

That was how she thought about it. The less they interacted the better. She knew she was the reason why Feoh fell. She should have listened to Cyril Sutherland when he made that report. She idly wondered if he was going to mention that to her Holiness. He probably would. Cyril was professional and to the point. He would hide nothing if it was important. She realized that she had never thanked him for saving her and Prim, thus she felt even more like a wretched person in the eyes of many. Alicia kept those thoughts to herself and straightened her posture. Failure was a lesson, one that she had sorely needed to learn. She would no longer be prideful. Her pride had cost her much and the price was something she was not willing to pay. She swore to herself that she would be stronger when they retook Feoh. 

Alicia paled slightly when she realized who she was going to ask for help. 

/

The scent on the wind was faint, but he smelled smoke and ash. The scent of something that had long since been burned and yet stood unbowed and unbroken. He didn't like it. Cyril gripped the reigns of his horse as he followed his employer. His eyes narrowed in cautious anger. Whatever this creature was, it smelled powerful. It had an aura of great strength and fortitude, a being wrapped around by destiny. Cyril exhaled through his nose and resisted against the urge to smile dangerously. He wondered what manner of beast he was about to encounter and thought about how to kill it. 

"Cyril?" Sallya asked, sounding a bit concerned. "Are you okay?" 

The Hunter said nothing, barely acknowledging her. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, whatever this thing was it was strong. Like Gehrman, or Ludwig when he was more beast than man. Worthy prey for a fine hunt. Cyril's face unknowingly broke into a smile at the thought. He felt bloodlust that he could barely contain. Perhaps the Hunt had changed him for the worst. Or maybe he was always like this, long before the fateful Night of the Hunt. it was not a very happy thought. 

Meanwhile, in the Alliance camp as Luu-Luu the Half-ling showed off her people's capability for forging weapons, the Chosen Undead felt his attention waver as he sensed another soul on the way. It was always like that with him, ever since his long journey through the desolate lands of Lordran. Souls were the currency of the land and the greater the soul, the more it was worth. It had been horrifying at first that men and women would barter their souls for whatever they could use to survive. It was what caused the Undead throughout Lordran to Hollow after all. He had seen it happen before. Blinking, Talos turned to eye the road carefully. It seemed that whoever this soul was it had a tainted strength to it. Much like Artorias, or the Father of the Abyss Manus. Talos didn't hear much of what Luu-Luu was saying, all he heard was a buzzing noise now as he focused on the road. 

This soul was worth watching, he mused. He didn't smile as his face had adopted a grim countenance as he felt his body tense up for battle. It was a feeling that he would have liked not to feel again. 

The sound of a horn startled him from his reverie. 

"Hey!!" Luu-Luu tugged on the sleeve of Talos' robes. "Looks like Alicia and Prim are here." She grinned up at him. Talos could only offer a small smile in response, such was his discomfort with physical contact. That and there was the unknown presence that was heading this way. He could have warned them all but he was not so sure about doing that. They might not believe him anyway, so as it was he was probably the only one who could stand against such might. He wouldn't have had it any other way, Luu-Luu was friendly and such light did not deserve to be snuffed out so quickly. Talos followed Luu-Luu who was approaching the source of the commotion...and the aura of fell power that he was sensing. 

/

Alicia stopped the caravan she led with a raised hand. Wearily she dismounted from her horse, her knights doing the same thing. Cyril had done the same but kept a respectful distance as he saw the three Princess Knights approach. He knew them by reputation and name but hardly knew or cared about them personally. The most senior one, the mature woman named Claudia Levantine, had embraced Alicia. She had auburn hair and clear blue eyes. Encased in thick armor, Cyril knew her to be the strongest knight of Eostia. The second, the red haired Maia the mercenary queen, clapped a hand on the blonde's shoulder looking very happy that Alicia had returned safe. Cyril saw the last knight, a half-ling by the name of Luu-Luu who had hugged Alicia's legs, the knight of Iris responding by awkwardly patting her head. 

Cyril merely continued adjusting his saddle as Sallya groaned. 

"Bloody horses." Sallya said, "I hate riding for a long time." 

Cyril shrugged. "Better than walking all the way here." He said to her. He ignored the looks he was getting from the Alliance soldiers and wondered if his duel with Vault had spread from the refugees to the camp. It didn't bother him if they were scared or angry but Alicia's rescue took priority. He wasn't about to fight off a fort full of soldiers with a liability and potentially risk his life that way. He'd kill Vault, one way or another. Patience was a virtue. After all, no Hunt was ever successful if the Hunter was brash or foolhardy. Cyril had long since discarded any notion of glory, the Night of the Hunt had bled that out of him. Cyril was about to see to Sallya's horse saddle when Alicia turned around from her mentor and called out to him. 

"...Master Sutherland? Could you come here?" 

Cyril exhaled through his nose and then turned his head to Sallya who nodded. "Go on." The Dark Mage said. "I can take care of myself." The Hunter tipped his hat then strode towards his employer, a hand on the hilt of his Chikage. The tails of his coat billowed in the coming breeze. Already he felt weary, but he knew the next battle was just around the corner. Now he was dealing with knights and nobles next. He was not looking forward to that at all. The Hunter stopped just a few paces short of Alicia and stood silently, waiting on her to speak. 

/

Taking a deep breath, Alicia turned back to Claudia and the others. "This is Cyril Sutherland." She said, introducing the tall sinister figure that was standing in front of them. "Master Sutherland, this is Claudia Levantine. The commander of the Dawn Templars. The other two are Maia and Luu-Luu. They are my comrades." 

Claudia's eyes narrowed as she took in the blade strapped to the man's side. There was also the bandoleer of throwing knives strapped across his chest. He was also armed with some kind of elegantly designed flintlock that remained holstered at his side. Cyril's features were hidden by a tattered tricorn hat and a cloth mask but that didn't matter. Unlike the stranger Talos, Cyril's eyes were cold and malicious. There was a foreboding aura that surrounded him, a warning to all sentient life. Claudia sensed that he wasn't just skilled, he was fast too. The man was a talented swordsman but he did not hold himself in an arrogant poise. He stood weary but tall. Unbroken. 

"You have my thanks, Master Sutherland." Claudia spoke, banishing her observations to the back of her mind for now. "For aiding my protege in her hour of need." 

"I was paid to." Cyril's answer was neither flippant or polite. He spoke in a chilling monotone. 

Alicia winced as Claudia's eyes narrowed. 

"Regardless, she is still safe thanks to you." Claudia said, scowling at the disrespect she was being shown. Cyril looked right back, his ruthless eyes making it very difficult to keep eye contact. He then shrugged his shoulders. 

"It was my job." He said. It was a humble statement, but coming from a man like him it seemed...disdainful. "She's my employer. It wouldn't be good if I took the money for shoddy blade work. I should have killed Vault but Lady Alicia's safety took priority." 

"Oh ho..." Maia's sordid grin did nothing to help Alicia's nerves, the blonde Princess Knight was red up to her ears which didn't last too long as her gaze lingered on Cyril. 

"Ah! Almost forgot!" Luu-Luu spoke up and interrupted them all by quickly dashing into the now parting crowd to get at someone. Maia chuckled as Claudia massaged her forehead in an attempt to ward off an incoming headache. Luu-Luu then brought forth her new, unwitting friend. 

"This is Talos!" Luu-Luu introduced the Pyromancer who looked about awkwardly waving. "He's like Mister Cyril! Maia just picked him up off of the road." 

"A pleasure..." Talos said politely, albeit distantly. His eyes kept drifting to Cyril who watched him warily before settling his attention back on Claudia. The Knight had noticed and she narrowed her eyes. Did they know each other? There was a palpable tension in the air as Cyril Sutherland stepped forward to close the distance to Talos the Pyromancer. 

Talos didn't flinch as the sinister figure of the Hunter approached. In fact, he himself stood just as tall as the Hunter did. The Pyromancer was also slightly broader at the shoulders, power was palpable in his frame while the Hunter exuded his own sinister aura. 

"You're not from around here either." Cyril deadpanned his eyes looking at the tattered state of the Pyromancer's garb. 

"Indeed, I am not." Talos answered blithely nodding at Cyril's hat. "I like your hat." He smiled grimly. 

Cyril didn't say anything, even as he stepped back a couple of paces. Just enough to draw his sword to cut. 

The atmosphere exploded, just as volatile as Talos' hand as he reached up and grabbed the Chikage's blade before it could reach his neck. His hand burned as he got ready for the inevitable attack and for the duel to begin.  

"Cyril!" Alicia called out. 

"Oh, bloody hell." Maia muttered as Claudia drew her sword to intervene. Luu-Luu was confused as she looked from her new friend to the new arrival that she was now disliking. 

Instead both the Hunter and the Pyromancer stared each other down. 

Talos was not amused in the slightest but let go as he felt Cyril draw back his Chikage. The Hunter didn't say anything before sheathing his blade, in return the Pyromancer let the flames fade. His hand was bleeding. Talos winced, as he was sure that the blade was poisoned. He felt a numbing sensation in his lips as he drew back. 

"Pleasure to work with you, Talos." Cyril said. His voice was a steady monotone. 

"Aye." Talos agreed grimly. But whether the Hunter was testing him or warning him, he didn't know. 

Talos sighed. He really,  _really_ stepped into it this time. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!


End file.
